


Beyond this Existence: Counterpoint

by aliceslantern



Series: Beyond this Existence [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Canon Compliant, Everyone Has Issues, Existential Crisis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Zemyx - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-01-01 02:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceslantern/pseuds/aliceslantern
Summary: After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3. Companion POVquel to Beyond this Existence.





	1. Chapter 1

I.

Ienzo did not believe in fate.

There was a structure to fate, based heavily in choice and self-fulfilling prophecy. The human will was strong, and to the untrained eye willing things into existence could be interpreted as near to divine. Still. Lately there had been more than enough coincidence to make him uncomfortable. For so long, they had all worked in theory,  _guessing_  how the human heart and will and mind all worked, only for their hypotheses to come out right, after all that experimentation. It was a bit boggling. And not necessarily in a good way.

"Lost you in thought again, my boy?" Ansem asked kindly.

Ienzo looked over at his master, who was pecking away at the keys of his computer, refamiliarizing himself with the layout and content. Things were still misplaced from the brush with Sark and the MCP, and they'd been too busy to spend time reorganizing. Now that the worst of the chaos was over, it was time to clean up, take stock, and move on.

He did not know what that entailed. "Apologies, Master."

"No need to apologize. You were always a pensive child. Don't be afraid to think aloud. I should like to get to know you again."

Ienzo sighed. It was… odd… to be near Ansem again, and to spend time with him. It had once felt so natural and comfortable, but now he felt ill at ease. Even though he had apologized, and Ansem not only graciously accepted that apology but then turned it back on  _him_ , he still felt… unclean. Since they had all been back together again, there was a need to let life go on like it used to be. But everyone was different. Especially Ienzo. He had changed, and not just physically. There was still so much to come to terms with, least of all his own mind.

As a Nobody, sorting his thoughts and feelings (if you could call them that) had been so easy. With minimal physiological sensation, tracing sources and rationalizing had been simple. Now, even setting aside more time than usual to reflect, his thoughts and  _yes,_  emotions, were jumbled, messy, and nearly impossible to deal with. Anxiety, even as a Nobody, was a natural response, but even with limited or no stimuli he would feel it creep into his body anyway. And the reunion with Ansem seemed to have been the point where it all intensified.

"I'm thinking about how my peculiar upbringing may have altered my perception concerning emotion," Ienzo said.

"Yes, I imagine it would. Emotion as a child and emotion as an adult are vastly different, and you woke up with a completely new mind, literally speaking. How are you coping?"

Ienzo bristled. How could he tell Ansem the truth? What comfort had he earned from him? He still had so much to do to prove himself. "Well enough. I find it fascinating. I'm my own case study."

Ansem chuckled. "That's a good attitude to have. You're young. I'm certain you will adjust well, so long as you take the time you need."

Ienzo nodded. He wasn't so certain what Ansem was saying was true. He felt the now-familiar slickness of anxiety heighten his heart rate and tried to take deep breaths as quietly as he could.

His gummiphone started ringing. It had been a while since anyone had contacted him. There were a few text messages from the Restoration Committee now that they had a line of their own; Chip and Dale also reached out every week or so to say hello. He hadn't heard from any of the guardians in a while, though, so when he saw Riku on the caller ID he smiled a little, and answered.

Riku did not have his video enabled. Ienzo could hear the gentle wash of the waves in the background, and the wind. Riku did not speak, and Ienzo wondered if this was some sort of accidental call. The gummiphones were great, but not without their own glitches and quirks. "Is anyone there?" Ienzo asked.

"I'm here." There was an edge to Riku's voice that Ienzo recognized; he'd heard it in his own when Ansem had come back. Fear. Heartbreak. "I'm… sorry, I didn't know who else to call."

Ansem shot Ienzo a look. Ienzo shrugged. "Is everything all right? You sound distressed."

Riku explained the situation. He masked the pain in his voice well, but to Ienzo it was obvious. Sora still hadn't come back. He'd vanished, without a trace, gone to some place where the gummiphones couldn't reach. But the scariest thing was that Riku could no longer feel a connection to him at all.

"Ever since the Mark of Mastery test, I could feel him, his heart. But for whatever reason that's gone. And I'm not sure if that means he might be… just like Kairi…" His voice broke a little more. He must have held the phone away from his face-the sound of the waves intensified.

The acidic flush of anxiety already boiling within Ienzo worsened. He took a tense breath through his teeth to try and think clearly. His mind was buzzing. He tried to say something of comfort, but the only thing he could think was that it was all-too-likely Sora was dead as well. Especially if he were trying to retrieve Kairi from the clutches of death-

"Is there anything you know?" Riku asked. "You know a lot about hearts."

"I suppose… perhaps…"  _Breathe_ ,  _Ienzo_. "The connection may have weakened, but there's no reason to think it's still not there." Sora's bright, cheerful face flashed behind his eyes. He felt almost like he was being choked, and absolutely without warning he saw another face, Riku's face, Riku but not Riku, sharp bladed gloves against his throat-

"I'm going to Yen Sid to see what he knows, what this might mean. Is there maybe something in your research that could help us?"

Ienzo's muscles were tight.  _This is completely irrational. Get yourself under control._  "I'll take a look through what I have," he said in a strained voice.

"Thank you. I'll keep you posted."

Ienzo wanted to say something of worth, of comfort, to tell Riku to take care of himself, but he could not speak. With a shaking hand, he hung up.

"Are you  _quite_  alright?" Ansem asked.

Feeling like he could not breathe was merely psychological. There was nothing wrong with him. He was not dying. Not being strangled. Not watching Axel's laughing green eyes as the puppet slowly drained away his life-

That had been Zexion. This  _was_  Ienzo, and he was fine, he was not being choked, he had received some bad news. Ienzo could deal with bad news. Ienzo worked very well under pressure. Ienzo was-could be- _good._

Ansem touched his shoulder. "Ienzo?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't know what came over me." To his mollification, he felt a tear run down his face, though only on the right side where it was hidden by hair. Before he could properly explain the situation, he heard footsteps on the smooth glass floor of the lab.

"Oh, this is rich," Dilan said, laughing a little. "You'll never guess who the cat dragged in. Turns out there  _are_  no more Xehanorts running around, as you have worried. Demyx is here. And he's alive. Technically speaking."

No. Ienzo did not believe in fate.

* * *

They'd put him in the spare bedroom, the one that had been reserved for the seventh apprentice Ansem had never fully brought on. (Lea and Isa, he decided, did not count. After all, where were they now?)

Demyx was unconscious. Not unlike Even after Xehanort's death, he'd fallen into a feverish, comatose state after the piece of heart cut through him. It must have been on a delay due to all his travel between worlds with odd time streams. Ienzo regarded him curiously. Their only interaction in all this time had been the day of Ansem's reunion, and Ienzo's emotions had run too high to process his appearance. All Ienzo remembered was that his willingness to help Even and defect against Xehanort was surprising.

He looked poorly. He'd lost some weight, and his body was racked with feverish chills. Even was at his side, tending to him and taking notes.

"...He's not a vessel?" Ienzo asked.

"I don't believe so. I've already checked his eyes. Not gold. Look." Matter-of-factly, he pulled back one of Demyx's eyelids, as if he were also one of the faceless replicas. Ienzo could barely see a sliver of teal.

"Do you think he's trustworthy?" Ienzo asked softly.

"I do not believe he'd cause any harm to us," Even said. "He was rather helpful with the replicas."

"The boy holds no ill will. We did not speak much, admittedly, but he seemed all too happy to get a move in edgewise," Ansem said. "I believe he was merely swayed. And we can sway him back to us, if need be."

"I'll monitor him, but he should be up and about before long." Even shook his head. "Nasty business. At least it's all over now." He picked up Demyx's ragged old coat. "I'll put this filthy thing in the wash with mine. Best to hold onto. Just in case."

They both turned and left. Ienzo tried to follow, with the intent to try and solve the Sora conundrum, but he couldn't help but look back. He decided he would have some tea.

Ienzo sat with his mug and shut his eyes. It was time to figure some things out. Not in a short period at the end of the day, as Zexion had been wont to do, but now. Perhaps he had to do this practice more often, now that he was human.

He was not Zexion. He was Ienzo.

Deep breaths.

He couldn't deny the fact that Demyx's reappearance just worsened his anxiety. Not because of any negative feelings he harbored towards him-Ienzo didn't feel particularly anything towards Demyx at either extreme-but because of what it implied. Radiant Garden was different. The apprentices were different. They couldn't just pick up their lives as if nothing had happened, not that Ienzo would want to. If anything, his appearance symbolized the two lives crashing together. Things would always be off-kilter. As much as Ienzo told himself this, he didn't quite feel it. It was so much harder to internalize fact as a human.

At least, he thought, if both Demyx and Even had lost the pieces of Xehanort's heart that had been thrust upon them, there was no chance of Xehanort returning in any form. He tried to take comfort in this. And Xehanort would never return to be an apprentice.

Ienzo's tea was bitter. As much as he had tried to busy himself, Xehanort's and Braig's absences were quite obvious, though none of them would dare bring it up. They had been a team once, a unit, you could even go so far as to say they were a fa-

He cut off the thought. It did no good to dwell on these things.

Breathe. Deeply.

"I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse," Dilan said as he approached in Ienzo's peripheral vision.

"I feel no way particularly. Everyone deserves a second chance. Him too."

Dilan shook his head. "We'll see how humanity fares for him. For all we know his transformation will be as dramatic as yours."

Ienzo frowned despite himself. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You, Zexion… night and day. Down to the way you're dressed." He gestured to the white lab coat that the apprentices wore most of the time.

"Perhaps it's because I've seen the error of my ways, and seek to change," Ienzo said. "You must admit. All that plotting and scheming… is  _very_  tiring."

Dilan shrugged.

"Are you not glad for a second chance?"

"I suppose I must be. Especially with Ansem here again. We can do some good for once." He hesitated, and Ienzo wondered if he wanted to sit. Ienzo realized he did not want that. He and Dilan had grown apart in the Organization, and now their relationship was a touch strained. "I feel bad for you. You've missed the majority of your youth in that hellish nightmare."

"As I'm becoming aware," Ienzo said. He felt a heat starting in his cheeks. Was he angry at Dilan? Why? It was true; Ienzo had missed most of his life. Even if he had stayed an apprentice, he still could have gone to normal school, had typical friends, would have developed in a way that would allow him to feel and express emotion properly.

"I do hope you find some way to make up for it," Dilan said.

"There are other matters to attend to first," Ienzo said.

"Yes… I suppose there are." He looked at his wristwatch and sighed. "I'm going to relieve Aeleus. See you later."

For a while after he left Ienzo sat, trying to nurse the absolutely awful tea and find a way to stand and get some work done. Tides of emotion threatened to break over him, each stronger than the last. He breathed. He sipped. He decided that he would go to the library for some light reading on abnormal psychology-surely average, well-adjusted adults didn't feel like this all the time? Firstly, though, he needed to eat. His appetite had been very poor lately, and he had to maintain weight.

He put up oatmeal and let it cook, slowly, sweetening it the way Even had when he was a small boy, with sugar and honey, remembering how he'd tell him that keeping his blood sugar up was important to think clearly. With a gentle pat on the head.

Even was not the same either. He still had the hard edge that he'd gained as Vexen. Or maybe it was just that Ienzo was no longer a child, and had lost the tenderness usually afforded to one.

Before Ienzo could begin to think about why this was important, he heard the soft squeak of floorboards coming from the guest room. Demyx must have woken up. Exactly how much time had passed? Ienzo checked the gummiphone; at least two hours.

_I must keep better track of my reflection time._

He sighed, and stood. He did not feel like having this conversation, but if Demyx felt even half as confused as he did, he deserved it. He approached slowly, opened the cracked door. "I thought I heard something," he said. "I think it's time we had that chat."

Demyx's eyes were wide, frightened and, Ienzo noted with a hint of relief, still completely free of gold. He gestured for Demyx to follow him back to the kitchen. He handed him tea. He expected some of the exuberant chattiness that had filled their last meeting, and found none. Demyx kept looking around the room, as though disoriented.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Ienzo continued. Demyx was staring at him oddly. "Even was worried, but I knew you'd come around."

He was full of tension. Ienzo could see that much. "What  _happened_? Why are my-" He touched near his eye.

He really did know nothing. "I admit we were confused about that at first, but it's really quite simple. When Xehanort was killed, the piece of his heart that had been put inside you must have been purged. Even went through the same thing. So the good news is that you're a vessel no longer."

"I'm not?"

"It seems like you were one of the lucky ones," Ienzo said. He ladled out two bowls and placed one in front of Demyx. "If you had been a true vessel, you probably would have perished." And been recompleted far less messily. Ienzo considered what he himself was going through. Which was harder-being gradually eased into humanity, or thrust into it all at once? Necessary change, but painful.

Demyx said nothing. He bit his lip.

"It'll take time for your heart to grow back and for you to adjust. Thankfully, time is something we have a lot of now." He forced a smile. "Roxas and Naminé send their thanks. It's partially because of you, after all, that they became their own people again." This much was true. The vessel Demyx brought had given them  _just_  the information they needed to be able to make new ones. And Ansem had been there to help, after all, brought out of his months of wandering in the darkness.

Demyx continued to be silent. It was, perhaps, the quietest Ienzo had ever heard him be. His emotions flickered across his face clear as day; worry, fear, relief. They lacked the slickness of recreated Nobody emotion.

"You must be overwhelmed," Ienzo said haltingly. "I assume this reticence will pass. You should eat. Get your strength back."

He listened, and for a time they ate in silence. At least the oatmeal wasn't as bitter as the tea. Ienzo really needed to cook a proper meal one of these days. They'd been living off of nonperishable goods, too busy to go to the marketplace daily. "Where are they?" Demyx asked suddenly.

"Roxas and Naminé? I'm not quite sure. I believe they're in Destiny Islands at the moment, with nearly everyone else." Roxas didn't have his own gummiphone, as far as Ienzo was aware, so it wasn't like he could hear from them. To his shock, Demyx was actually tearing up, and trying very poorly not to give in to it. Ienzo had never seen him express anything like this; he had always been so callous and crass in the past, uncaring. Was this empathy? Or simply being overwhelmed? Ienzo wondered if Dilan might be right after all, and offered him a napkin to dry his eyes.

"Your heart might not take that long after all," Ienzo said lightly.

"Did you just crack a joke?" Demyx asked between sobs.

"I do have a sense of humor," he said. "Why don't you come get some rest?"

Ienzo decided to take his own advice. He too was exhausted, reeling from the events of the day and in desperate need of some quiet. He took off his lab coat, put on some less formal clothing, and crawled under the covers of his childhood bed.

Being in this room was still strange. He'd already set aside most of the few toys he'd still had as a little boy, as well as most of the books he used to read. A lot of volumes from his current research or reading sat around in various states of organization. Part of him itched to clean it up, to make it a different space, but his body weighed him down.

Sleeping was… difficult.

Even as Zexion he'd had difficulty sleeping, thoughts swirling and pinging against one another. Adding humanity made this necessary bodily function almost impossible. The anxiety of the day welled under his skin. He'd considered asking Even for a mild sedative, but then he'd have to explain  _why_  it was he couldn't get any sleep, and the embarrassment of that alone held him back. They would think even less of him if they knew he couldn't even handle these new emotions. This new body. It did feel new, in a way, even though it was all the same as Zexion's. He touched the scars at the base of his throat where the Riku replica had strangled him.

There were so many thoughts to dwell on. Not enough time to process. Especially now that he had so much work to do. There had to be some way he could help Sora. Ienzo couldn't help but feel this was all his fault somehow. If the darkness hadn't spread the way his experiments had enable it to-

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. He sat up. He figured he might as well get some work done.

* * *

"Ienzo, my boy, what are you still doing here?"

Ienzo jerked, startled from the complex web of words on the screen.

Ansem, in his casual clothing, approached him. "Ah, there it is," he said. He picked up a book that he had left by the computer. "I finally decided to try and relax, and I leave behind my novel. My memory is not as good as it used to be."

Ienzo set about shutting off the computer. It was so late as to be early. For the first time, he noticed he had a vicious headache, particularly behind his eyes. He must have completely dissociated, which was worrying, to say the least.

"Something weighs heavily on your mind," Ansem said gently. "I can feel it. Speak, Ienzo. You mustn't bear burdens all by yourself."

Ienzo exhaled. "My emotional state today has been… worrying," he said haltingly. "I feel intense, borderline pathological anxiety."

Ansem considered this. "So you lied to me earlier today," he said. "Why is that?"

Ienzo shook his head. "I do not deserve to be comforted. Not when I-" He could feel the harsh tightness in his throat. The soft glint in Ansem's eye did not help this.

"Ienzo, we have discussed this. You were a little boy. You cannot take fault for what happened. You are fixing your mistakes now."

"But it can never make up for what I-" A hot, potent mixture of chagrin and guilt washed over him. He struggled not to cry.

"My dear, dear Ienzo," Ansem said. "You have already accomplished more than I thought possible in the way of good. Tell me what it is you feel. Truthfully."

"I feel…" He could feel the strength leaching from him. "Ashamed, and frightened, and sad, all at once. I constantly feel  _everything_  concurrently. Is this what it is to be human?"

"Yes-it is especially more intense when one is young."

"I am not myself," Ienzo said. "I am…"

"A work in progress," Ansem said gently. "As are most people, certainly people your age."

"Things between all of us do not feel right either."

"I agree," Ansem said. "It will take much forgiveness for us all to heal. It is a process."

"I was naive enough to wish these things would be done with."

"Not naive. Hopeful." Ansem squeezed his shoulder. "Let me make you some chamomile tea."

When he finally did sleep, curled on the old loveseat in Ansem's quarters, it was fitfully and vaporously. He could still feel the replica's fingers around his throat, the suit's sharp scales cutting through the soft skin. Nobodies did not feel much but he  _felt_  the fear tear through him. And then felt it when he woke up as Ienzo, bleeding and weeping as Aeleus worried over Dilan's motionless, bloodied body. And felt it the third time as he woke up.

Groggily, Ienzo pushed himself off the couch, padded over to Ansem's personal bookshelf, and started searching. He found it, dog-eared and worn, towards the bottom of the case. He blew the dust off it.

_Post-traumatic stress, originally known as "shell shock", is a psychological condition in which an individual-_

Frustrated, he put the book back. This wasn't helping. If anything, he was shakier and woozier than ever, and his head still pounded.

Of course he couldn't come out of all that without scars, literal and figurative ones. But the fact that he  _finally_ had life back and now had to experience this was… a little galling. To say the least.

"Good morning, Ienzo." Ansem was making coffee in the apartment's kitchen. "I figured it was better to let you sleep here rather than make you tramp all the way back to your room. You looked quite exhausted."

"I was. I am," he said.

"Understandably so. I have an errand for you, if you feel up to it. Maybe some fresh air would do you some good."

In all honesty, Ienzo could not remember the last time he'd been outside the castle confines. "Yes. Perhaps."

"I'd like you to get some clothing for Demyx. I do not want to see those coats again if I don't have to. And I suspect you must need some yourself. You've outgrown your old things, no doubt." With a wink.

"You're not incorrect." It had been almost funny, going through his dresser drawers and finding all the small clothing. Funny and also sad. The small lab coat had been handsewn, tenderly, from an adult one. In the hope that he too might grow into their profession.

Ansem crossed over to his desk and took out a small purse of money. "Take your time. I daresay you need it."

The light, even for fall, seemed piercingly bright outside, and he flinched until his eyes adjusted. The violet sky was free of clouds. Ienzo could hear the tolling of bells above that signified a new hour.

This was home.

Still. Despite the ongoing restoration of the town, there was damage lingering from both the initial fall to darkness and the massive Heartless mob that the first Organization had sent. Ienzo couldn't help but be thankful that Zexion had passed by then. Otherwise that plan would have also been added to his heavy conscience.

The town was growing as people returned from Traverse Town. The Heartless population, thanks to Cid's claymores and the end of Xehanort, was low. Life was moving on.

It did not feel that way.

Ienzo shook his head to ward off the thoughts and went to the market.

The clothing seller was kind, and didn't charge him very much. Ienzo picked out a few simple things for himself and Demyx. It should not feel strange to shop. It should not feel strange to share small talk with the vendors. And yet, it did.

While he was here, he picked up some fresh groceries. There was order in food, simplicity, and it grounded him. For the first time in all too long he looked forward to this meal, rather than having it be just another thing to get through.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

The voice, feminine and shrill, startled him. Ienzo fought hard to put on a smile. "Hello, Yuffie."

"How you been?" Despite being ex-Organization, the Restoration Committee had been generously welcoming to him. Ienzo looked over at the girl, only slightly younger than he himself was. And yet, throughout all these years, even she as a child was capable of making good choices, threw herself into the resistance-

"I am well. And yourself?"

"I'm great! You know, you should stop by sometime. You don't have to stay holed up in your castle all day. You're home."

"I admit I have to keep reminding myself of that."

She laughed. "It still does feel kinda weird. But you know. I don't really like normal." She shrugged. "What've you got there?"

"Basic supplies. Food. Clothing. One of the old Organization members returned. He's staying with us for now."

"Oh? Which one?"

"You know him as Demyx. He hasn't given his other name to us yet."

She frowned. "I remember him. He was the one who came on the day of the Thousand Heartless."

"I realize this. But I believe, or at least I hope, that he will have changed as much as the rest of us. He did help us with Roxas and Naminé."

Yuffie sighed. "We'll see. Anyway, I gotta go. Patrol. You know how it is."

"I'm sure there's no need to keep up such vigorous rounds."

She rolled her eyes. "I agree, but tell Squall that. He's paranoid even though things have calmed way down. I can't help but humor the guy. It keeps me busy. And hey. Don't be a stranger. You could use some new friends." She saluted, and set off.

Ienzo, somewhat automatically, turned and began heading to the castle. The brightness and density of the marketplace was leaving him feeling frazzled, anxious, and overstimulated. Yuffie was right; he could use friends, friends closer to his own age. The sheer strength of the Guardians of Light was testament to that. And yet… should he find the courage to drop by for a visit, how would he proceed? What would he talk about? Surely they must have known everything he'd done?

He shook his head. He had a lot of reflection to do before he was ready for that.

Ienzo spent the rest of the day cleaning the kitchen in Ansem's quarters. It was much nicer, and better-equipped, than the one the rest of the apprentices shared. But like the rest of the castle, it was dirty and in disrepair, and making it habitable hadn't been high on Ansem's list of priorities. He scrubbed at tile and countertops. Nothing wanted to be all the way clean, and the rust would absolutely not come off the burners on the stove. Ienzo did not stop until he realized his hands were smarting from all the chemicals.

"I should have worn gloves," he muttered. "Careless."

He prepared a roasting chicken and stuffing. Food was easy. Objective. There was nothing bad that could come from making food for others. He watched it all cook, and tried to convince himself things would be alright.

* * *

The next day the skies opened up, and it rained.

It had been months since he'd seen a storm like this. From his bed after another sleepless night he observed it fall. Cool air blew under his poorly insulated window.

Ienzo had to come up with a plan. Enough dallying about. Starting today he would do whatever was in his power to help Sora. If they could so much as contact him, it would be worth it. After all of Sora's suffering at Castle Oblivion, it was the least he could do. He dressed in his lab uniform, tightening the ascot at his throat to hide the scars.

He would fix this.

Except the files did not want to agree with him.

He must've spent hours looking through the archives. It was hopelessly disorganized, ripped apart by Sark, and the data from the Organization hadn't yet been uploaded. Rather than do anything of actual help, he had to sort the files, bit by bit, some of it pure guesswork because most of this research was not his.

"Have you a moment?" Even looked irritated; then again, lately he always did.

"Of course. Whatever is the matter?" He kept pulling files this way and that off of the cluttered screen.

"You no longer have any of your Nobody abilities, correct?"

Ienzo looked up. "That is correct." In their first confusing days of humanity, they'd all tried to connect with their powers. Trying to summon his lexicon or perform even the most minute glamor had given him a terrific migraine that put him in bed for the better part of two days. "Why is it you ask? You haven't either, have you?"

"I have tried, and I cannot," Even said. "I wanted to make sure. He found out."

"Who? Demyx?"

Even nodded. "I wonder if my tone might have been too sharp. He did look rather distressed."

Ienzo sighed. They all knew how attached Demyx was to his sitar; going without it must be something akin to withdrawal.

"But what is it I'm to do? I'm not a miracle worker. And if I'm being honest, I'm quite content with how  _silent_  things are around here."

"Strictly speaking, there  _is_  nothing we can do. Aside from have patience. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to have dropped off those clothes. My memory has not been great lately."

"You've had a lot on your mind," Even said. "I suspect we all have. I'll be glad to not see another one of those infernal cloaks. So drab. So… cult-like."

Ienzo looked back to the computer. "Master Ansem said essentially the same thing. I suppose I should take care of it now." He dreaded seeing Demyx's face, of trying to find words of comfort. He understood his distress, but the fact that he was actively  _grieving_  part of that Nobody life reviled him.

"I shall walk with you."

They left. The castle was so large, and yet they really lived in such a small part of it. The rest of it sat vacant, unused, and gradually decaying. The carpet at their feet was worn.

"It's a shame," Even said. He scruffed the carpet with the toe of his shoe. "Things here were once so beautiful. If the committee were not so busy we could use their assistance. This place is a shell of what it once was."

"You have to admit it feels rather significant," Ienzo said.

"Too on the nose, for my tastes," Even said. He shook his head. "We're not shells of who we once were. We've changed and adapted. You most of all. I miss being so pliable."

"...So I've heard," Ienzo said sourly. "I assure you it is not as easy as it looks."

"My apologies."

A sharp emotion tightened in his throat. Ienzo found himself wanting to confide in Even, wanting to beg him to help, like when he was a child. Wanting to be comforted, coddled, even though he had done nothing to warrant such niceties. "If only times were simpler," he said. "I feel as if I've no time to look after myself-what with Sora's disappearance and Demyx's arrival."

"Sora's disappeared?"

Of course, holed up in his lab all day, Even wouldn't know. Ienzo explained what happened.

"...How curious," Even said, his lips turning down. "I wonder if there's any of his data somewhere?"

"Sora's? I do not know. I'm not sure how his friends would feel if he were a replica, though."

Even sighed. "I've tried to recreate Sora's heart, and we know what happened with that," he said. "As proud as I am of Xion's sentience and personhood, unfortunately his heart is so special that it seems to be a moot option. Best not to give them hope."

Ienzo hesitated.

"I thought I'd taught you better," Even said.

"You should have heard Riku's voice."

"I'm surprised you feel so strongly about him, not when you have such poor memories of him."

"That was  _your_  replica, might I remind you," Ienzo snapped.

Even raised an eyebrow. "The Riku replica? What about it?"

Ienzo froze. Even didn't know. "Never mind," he said evasively.

"Boy, tell me," Even said thickly.

Automatically, Ienzo's hands fluttered to his throat, and he fought to steady them.

"Ienzo," Even said.

Slick, sparkling, spicy anxiety swept through him. He tried to steady his breath, but the tightness in his chest was was it he could not get himself under control?

"Oh, Ienzo," Even said.

"If you  _must_  know," Ienzo forced out between breaths. "Axel had the Riku replica kill Zexion."

"He did?" Even barked out a strange laugh. "Axel killed Vexen."

A wave of dizziness nearly overcame Ienzo. Even placed a hand on Ienzo's shoulder.

"How is it you're feeling?"

"I don't understand," Ienzo said. "I don't understand what it is I'm feeling."

"Intense, paralyzing panic?" Even suggested.

"Yes-perhaps-" His knees were weak and shaking.

"You should sit down and focus on modulating your breathing," Even said. He took Ienzo by the elbow and helped him sit down on the floor. "It's alright. This is a normal reaction to recalling something traumatic-"

"Believe me, I know," Ienzo hissed. "I am  _perfectly_  aware of what this is." It didn't help, he thought.

"Count to ten," Even said. "Deep, steady breaths."

He tried. His desire to confide in Even completely gave way to an abject humiliation. "Why is it you do not feel that way?" Ienzo said.

"Perhaps my heart is not quite as developed as yours," Even said. "Perhaps it is that I have not processed it all, yet."

"I do not wish to speak of it at the moment," Ienzo said. His chest still ached terrifically. "I must… I must go." He pulled away from Even. Standing gave him a wave of vertigo. He stumbled down the hallways, nearly getting lost in the familiar twists and turns, until he reached his bedroom. Ienzo lay down on his bed for a moment. He breathed and breathed until he no longer had to think about it. He shook himself. Gathered up the bundle of clothes. Prepared himself for another awkward conversation.

He knocked at the door and waited for a moment. There was no response. Ienzo struggled to put on a neutral face and cracked the door. "Sorry to intrude. Ansem suggested you might like something else to wear, other than… that." Demyx was pale and wan and washed out, especially against the black of the coat. Ienzo realized just how obvious his cheekbones were in his face, how much weight he'd lost. "Doubtful you'll need its protection any time soon."

He was silent. There was an empty, frightened look in his eye, and to Ienzo's surprise when he caught his own reflection in the small dresser mirror, he wore the same expression.

Ienzo swallowed. He put the clothes down and hugged himself tightly. It didn't help much. "I realize this process has not been easy for you-"

Demyx's eyes flitted to meet his, and then he looked away.

He didn't know how to find the words. "I failed to make the connection. I didn't realize that gaining your humanity would result in another type of loss. But of course your connection to your power must have run deeply."

"It's just always been there," he said. "I feel like part of me has died."

Ienzo bristled a little. How could he not see the opportunity he'd been handed? Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but agree- "Yes. I imagine it would."

"Don't you feel the same way?" Demyx turned towards him. His bright eyes sought Ienzo's. "I mean, in a sick way, becoming Nobodies kind of brought out the best parts of us."

Bile rose in Ienzo's throat. He looked down. The anxiety was back, worse than before, and all he could say was, "I disagree." How could he think that? If anything, being a Nobody had just enabled Zexion's dark nature, and instead he'd just kept committing atrocities in the name of science.

Demyx blushed.

Ienzo was shaking. "I'll let you rest," he said woodenly, and left the room.

He found himself crouched over the toilet, heaving emptily because he'd forgotten to eat that day.

The memories poured behind his eyes. How had he been so cruel? Was it ever possible to make up for it? So many worlds had fallen. So many people had-

That didn't even count the initial spread of darkness. If he had not listened to Xehanort and encouraged all those extra tests on the subjects-

Ienzo spit weakly. He crossed over to the sink, pulled back his hair, washed his face.

He really was not well. The ripples of the old life were clearly not going to settle any time soon. How on earth was he going to learn to manage them?

There was something he could do. He could help Sora. Helping Sora would save people. Maybe he could save himself in the process.

Some hope.

He picked up his gummiphone and dialed Ansem. "Master? Can you help me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo begins investigating Sora's disappearance. An awkward dinner party reveals Demyx and Ienzo's shared anxieties.

II.

It kept raining.

Ienzo choked down some food. His stomach was still sour, but he had to stay nourished. And then after that he went back into his room, in search for the copies of the old reports he had written and printed out meticulously. Nothing seemed to be in the right place. How had he been so disorganized? 

Ienzo heard muffled conversation in the hallway; Ansem’s familiar deep timbre mixed with Demyx’s slightly higher, younger one. Ienzo gathered what he had and steeled himself.

“I’m all set, Master. I seem to have misplaced some of my papers.” He was so incredibly exhausted. He tried to smile, but it slipped a little when he saw Demyx. It was bizarre to see him in civilian clothing.  _ I am so tired of this life feeling strange. _ “Shall we get started?”

Demyx looked a little pained, embarrassed, even. “What are you guys up to?”

Ansem looked towards him. “Tying up some loose ends.”

His lip twitched. “Well. Have fun I guess.”

_ Fun. _ Ienzo shook his head. 

“So you would like to look into the metaphysical behind Sora’s disappearance?” Ansem asked. They started walking towards the lab.

“Yes. I believe I read that, even when Roxas was in simulation, away from this world, his heart was still very much in connection to others’, right?”

Ansem sighed. “That was all discovery in retrospect,” he said. “It… was incredibly callous of me, but for the longest time I did not believe Roxas  _ had _ a heart. But I know better now.”

“Sora’s heart is special. I know Riku said he no longer feels connected to Sora’s heart, but if I could somehow explore those connections, or at least approximate them in data, then maybe we can trace his presence so far.” He bit his lip. “It’s all very nebulous. But I feel I owe it to them to at least try.”

“That’s my boy,” Ansem said. “Yes. I think that’s a good jumping off point. And luckily we have plenty of data of those connected to Sora.”

“The replicas?” Ienzo asked. 

“Quite.”

“Yes. I see.” 

It was slow, painstaking work. They had to wait for the data to download from Twilight Town’s terminal to receive Roxas’s, which naturally took time between worlds. Then there was gathering the old Castle Oblivion and World That Never Was research all into one place, unpacking it from tiny .zip files from a thumb drive Even had always carried with him and lent to Ansem. While all this copied, Ienzo pored through what he had on paper. He truly did not know where to begin. Was this all in vain? Was this at all possible? 

“You look unwell,” Ansem commented. “It would do you some good to try and banish these anxious thoughts.”

“Thank you, you’ve cured me,” Ienzo muttered without meaning to. His hand shot to his mouth. “I… I apologize for such impudence.”

To his surprise, Ansem was smiling. “You no longer need to be so formal,” he said. “After all we’ve gone through, there is no reason why we can’t talk and joke like equals.”

“I have not earned that privilege,” Ienzo said. He watched the progress bar roll ever so slowly across the screen. The approximate time for completion was hours from now, and the computer’s fans were whirring wildly. 

“Then treat it as a favor to me,” Ansem said. 

Ienzo’s face burned. He could hardly believe what Ansem was implying. The words were meant to be kind, but they twisted a sort of pain within him. Everything, every little thing, sparked some bizarre emotional reaction.

“You’re doing enough,” Ansem said kindly. 

“Maybe that time will come someday,” Ienzo said. “But for now I am not ready.”

“You’ve become quite wise. Yet I hope that you will not forget that you still have the right to grow, and learn, and seek happiness of your own accord. I would not blame you if you chose another path in life. Goodness knows I’ve tried.”

Ienzo floundered. Happiness? A change in profession? Both seemed equally unlikely, and that sat oddly within him. “This is what I know. This is what I love.”

“I’m merely advising that you don’t let any doors close behind you.”

He sighed. “Yes. I suppose.” He glanced back to the clock, feeling antsy. “Well. I did not figure I would have the time, but I may cook dinner for us. It would be good to have everyone in the same room. We’ve been so scattered.”

“I rather like the sound of that. You go on. I’ll make sure things are running smoothly.”

In Ansem’s quarters, he shed his lab coat. Even in the chill, it felt overwarm, and constricting. He tried to lose himself in the ease of cooking. Ienzo allowed himself to make a cake. Thankfully he’d thought ahead to buy the dry ingredients, the vanilla and almond extract. This took skill, and finesse, and the result made people happy. He found the tension within him infinitesimally easing, but all too soon the prep work was over, and all there was left for him to do was watch the roast cook. 

He set the broad mahogany table for five and stood at the china cabinet for a moment. To not include Demyx would be rude, and inconspicuous. Ienzo sighed and set a sixth place at the table. 

Once he had set out all the food, he set about rounding up everyone. It felt good to see their faces when he asked them all to join together. It lifted the weight a little, made the anxiety bearable.

Demyx was farthest away in the castle. He didn’t answer when Ienzo knocked at the door, and at first he wasn’t even sure Demyx was there. But when he opened the door he was curled in the small old bed, fast asleep. Ienzo considered letting him sleep. After all, it would be even ruder to wake him up, wouldn’t it? But then he caught the sharpness of his cheekbones reflected in the light, and could not bring himself to leave. He approached him warily and gave him a gentle shake. “Demyx?”

He stirred, flinching a little. 

“I’m sorry to wake you. We’re all having dinner and Ansem was wondering if you might like to join us.”

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked almost as exhausted as Ienzo felt; Ienzo could see the veins through his pale skin. “Yeah. Thanks.” Demyx paused, and then said all in a rush, “I’m sorry if what I said bothered you.”

That caught him off guard. “That’s alright. You meant what you said. You just don’t understand.” How could he? He hadn’t had the same life as Ienzo, the same perspective. He could not be as acutely aware of every little mistake he made. This was  _ Demyx _ . He was barely aware of his own presence most of the time. 

Demyx blinked, looking stung. “No, I guess I don’t,” he said. 

They headed up towards Ansem’s quarters. The silence between them was pulling Ienzo taut. He could reach for small talk--but what was there to say? 

They passed through the raggedly breezeway. A smoky-smelling wind blew through the curtains, ruffling the old lace.

“Swanky place,” Demyx said cautiously.

Right, he wouldn’t know. “Master Ansem’s quarters. He likes the northernmost light.”

“Why do you call him  “Master”?”

This puzzled him. “Because I am his apprentice, and he deserves respect.”

“Are you, though? I mean, you’ve been doing this all on your own. Feels kinda like he just slipped back into place and took all the credit for the work you did getting Roxas and Naminé new bodies.” 

A finger of anger welled in his throat, and he regretted waking Demyx. Against his will, he recalled the day they’d woken Naminé, after hours of preparing and reprogramming the replica. Ienzo had prepared himself to say something to soothe her, knowing very well that to her perspective she was surrounded by three people who had always treated her poorly. But Ansem had spoken to her first. “Not to be rude, Demyx, but if I sought your opinion on the matter, I would ask for it.”

He flinched. “Sorry.”

Ienzo relented. This brassiness was just par for the course for Demyx’s personality, and there wasn’t any offense meant in it. “That’s quite all right.” He pushed open the heavy doors and crossed over to the table, to his seat by Ansem’s side. He could see Demyx looking at the space and for a moment saw it anew, the simple opulence of it, and yet its state of disrepair. He seemed shy, unsure of himself, and finally settled down at the last empty space.

“Sorry. I didn’t know I was holding you all up,” Demyx said.

“No harm, no foul,” Ansem said. “Please, everyone. Help yourselves.”

With their recent conversation in mind, Ienzo couldn’t help but feel a slight ping of frustration. Ansem had not spent the day cooking. But these were his quarters; by default, he was the host.

They all ate. The awkwardness in the air was obvious. They hadn’t all gathered like this in a long while, nearly since they’d reunited. Nobody seemed to know quite what to say. At least the meal had come out okay. Between bites, Ansem advised him of the progress of the downloads; some of the files were corrupted, so he was going in by hand to see what he could recover. 

“Who made this?” Demyx asked. “Everything’s really good.”

Ienzo turned away, trying to remind himself to be patient. It was a compliment, after all. “That would be me. Thank you, Demyx.” He did look like he truly appreciated it. 

Even recommended a certain file conversion which might recover some of the corrupted data. They talked about the efficacy of this for a little while. The unexpected familiarity of the conversation eased the knot inside Ienzo’s breast. Maybe they just needed time to readjust to each other. It wasn’t completely hopeless. But there was so much bitterness, so much regret and guilt, that it seemed to choke the air. 

Plates empty, he started to clear the table for the cake. But to his surprise, Demyx offered to do it for him. Ienzo nearly refused, but there was a strange, unreadable glint in Demyx’s eye. “The kitchen is through that door there.” 

Even raised his eyebrow. “Would you look at that.”

“He does seem a touch uncomfortable,” Dilan said. He sipped at the sweet wine that was a favorite of Ansem’s. “It is odd. We can’t pretend it isn’t.”

“This is his home now, as much it is any of ours,” Ansem said. “We must all be patient with one another, and welcoming to our guest. Even if this situation is… unorthodox.”

“Yes,” Ienzo agreed. His voice sounded more affable than he felt. “Are we feeling ready for dessert?” Seeing the affirming nods, he crossed back to the kitchen for the cake.

Demyx’s left hand was covered in blood.

“What on earth--” he started.

Demyx spoke carefully, though his teeth. He gripped his elbow tightly. “Knife in the sink. There’s no towel or anything--”

Right--he’d brought all the linen down to be washed earlier. “That must’ve been my mistake. I am so sorry.”  He glanced around quickly to find anything to staunch the blood, but there wasn’t a scrap of fabric or paper. He untied his ascot. He had several more, and could very easily make some from his younger self’s clothing. But Demyx didn’t take it.

For the first time Ienzo fully recognized the wild, desperate look in his eye from earlier. He’d never seen it on a person other than himself. The kitchen, well insulated, made it easy to hear Demyx’s shallow, heightened breathing. His hands trembled.  _ He feels it too, _ Ienzo thought. An odd, but not unpleasant, feeling seeped into his bones. He turned on the tap and guided Demyx’s bleeding hand under it. Thankfully the cut wasn’t as bad as it looked. He bound it tightly. “I think you’re having a panic attack. Try and take a deep breath for me, okay? It’ll be over soon.”

He struggled to do so. Ienzo tried to hold his gaze, knowing all too well how terrifying it was to be in that moment, utterly alone. But doing so was difficult, and he very nearly felt anxious himself. Ienzo took his uninjured elbow and helped him sit. 

It took time. He shut his eyes, focusing hard on something. Ienzo hoped whatever it was grounded him. Once his breathing became less audible and forced, Ienzo tried to speak gently. “Was that the first time it happened?”

Demyx couldn’t make eye contact. Ienzo knew that embarrassment well, the shame of losing control. “I had one yesterday.”

And he was also having them often. Again, he felt his resentment and frustration at Demyx unraveling. Things were just as uncontrollable for him. And he didn’t have the same awareness of his own mind that Ienzo did.  “Do you have a history of this happening?”

He shook his head a second time. “I don’t think so. But a lot of that time is hard to remember.”

“What time? When you were human?” That was unusual. Was it a coping mechanism gone awry? Was it something to do with the fact that he’d been a vessel? 

He nodded.

Ienzo would have to puzzle this out another time. Speaking of missing memory would only destroy Demyx’s tenuous control. “Do you know what it is that triggered you?” Maybe if he could help him gain an awareness of it, it would help in the future if this happened again.

He was silent for a long moment. “No,” he said at last.

It wasn’t always possible to tell. “That’s alright. None of this readjustment is easy. It’s most likely stress you’re not used to feeling. I don’t think this sort of thing is permanent.” Even as he said the words, he doubted the truth in them.

Demyx’s eyes were glassy. “I’m sorry.”

Ienzo softened a little. “You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he said. 

He was withdrawing into himself; Ienzo could see it. He didn’t know if he should stop it, or if Demyx needed it to recover. He stood, cradling his injured hand. “I’m going to go lay down,” he whispered. 

He nodded. “You must be exhausted.”

Dazedly, Demyx left. Ienzo watched him go. Part of him wondered if he should follow, but he himself wanted nothing more than solitude after his own attacks, so he let Demyx go. He stretched, picked up the cake, and went back to the table.

“Everything alright?” Dilan asked. 

“Demyx was feeling faint. He’s gone to rest.” He took the cover off the simple cake. He would try and save a piece for him.

“I thought he was looking a little peaked myself,” Even said. “He was in hiding an awful long time. It was difficult enough for me to cope when I hid too. I can only imagine.” 

“Well, your sacrifices are not in vain,” Ansem said. “Here’s to a full recovery.”

When Ienzo ate, the sweet cake tasted like paste.


	3. Chapter 3

III. 

He spent another night half-awake, curled under the old covers of his bed. As much as Ienzo tried to rest, and calm himself, his mind would not stop whirring. He could not help but think about Demyx’s panic attack in relation to his own anxiety. To know he was not alone was a comfort, but a cold one, at that. Demyx did not shield his emotions or thoughts the way the others did, and while Zexion had found this grating, Ienzo did not. He was growing tired of the facades, he realized. 

When dawn finally came he went through his usual routine of bathing and dressing, and sat to eat. Normally during his morning meals he tried to brush up on his studies, because the last frantic weeks of Zexion’s life in the castle had left him too busy drawing up tactics and manipulating Riku. He was actually reading a rather fascinating text on the neuroscience behind autism, and as Ienzo had long suspected he was on some part of the spectrum, it helped him understand himself better.

This morning was different. Instead, he checked the posts on the gummiphone. Originally he’d intended the photo posting program to focus as a way to share data and reconnaissance, but quickly it had been claimed by scenic photos, silly self-portraits, and inexplicably (though, he had to admit, compellingly) photos of food. There hadn’t been new posts in a long time, so he checked them.

Little Chef’s food. A picture of Xion and Naminé by the ocean in Destiny Islands. Terra and Ven sparring playfully. Aqua relaxing with a spellcasting book. (Ienzo did miss magic dearly.) 

Sora, with a young woman with an incredible amount of blonde hair. Sora, posing with a lucky emblem. An unflattering photo of Donald. Goofy and Sora flexing their muscles with Hercules. Sora, with his arm around Kairi, and the caption,  _ keybuddies! So proud of her for completing her training. _

Looking at the posts was no longer so appealing. Ienzo again felt that ache in his chest, and found himself blinking a little too rapidly. This was grief, he realized, at least a shade of it. He hadn’t let himself fully process what Sora’s disappearance and Kairi’s death meant. He’d enjoyed helping Sora, and the others. And while they weren't friends, exactly, it was hard  _ not _ to feel something about such a bright light being extinguished. 

Aeleus entered the kitchen. “Ienzo,” he said by way of greeting.

Ienzo put his gummiphone away. “Aeleus. Good morning.”

He got himself some tea and sat across from Ienzo at the small table. “Things have settled in town,” Aeleus said.

Of all his bonds with the other apprentices, his relationship with Aeleus had perhaps changed the least. They’d remained close in the Organization, especially when Zexion was still small. Lexaeus had often accompanied him on missions, defending him before he was powerful and strong enough to go out on his own. “It has, hasn’t it?”

“We scarcely seem to need to keep a patrol. Nobody comes near. Heartless, neither.”

“Perhaps you can get on with your research.”

Aeleus shook his head. “My time with that has passed.”

“In a way, I envy you. But I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You’re resourceful. You’d find something.”

“...I suppose.” He traced the rim of his mug with a finger. 

“Something is on your mind,” Aeleus said.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Ienzo said. “I must be doing a poor job of controlling my expression. I couldn’t help but think of Sora. And his poor, poor friend Kairi.”

“Xehanort’s death had a price.”

“An incredibly expensive one,” Ienzo said sourly. “All this chaos for one man--and it’s not even over.”

“Such is the way, when you tie yourself so heavily to fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Ienzo said. “I’m surprised you do.”

Aeleus shrugged. “After all I’ve seen? It’s hard not to believe.”

“...Things have come together a little too neatly,” Ienzo conceded. “That’s the power of the will. As Ansem would say.” He stood. “I need to go to the library before I continue my work. I’ll see you later, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” Aeleus said. 

The various libraries in the castle had always been refuges for Ienzo, but the main library was especially of note, with the massive collections from other worlds, as well as ancient artifacts from Radiant Garden’s own history. Most seemed to have survived the fall, in their sturdy shadow cases. The chairs here were also the most comfortable, and this library had the most light. It seemed to be least hit by the overall decay of the castle, though everything needed a good cleaning. As he picked up titles he thought might be helpful, he wiped his dusty palms on his jacket, and it became quite dingy. 

To his surprise, as he passed the history section on the way to the lab, he saw Demyx feverishly scanning the titles. “What is it you’re looking for in here?” he asked.

Demyx looked up suddenly, like he was coming out of a daydream. “I was trying to find something about the age of fairy tales. I want to know more about that time.”

Ienzo frowned. He’d figured that Demyx would have been after music theory or something cultural, not that. “That sort of thing is oral history,” he said. “There are very, very few printed volumes that survive from that time. Ansem may be a collector of rare books, but even he could never get his hands on something like that. Why is it you ask?” Ienzo himself knew very little aside from the old stories everyone had been told as a child. Of course he was aware that some of these legends had played into Xehanort’s plan, but if that were the case, why on earth was Demyx looking into it? His eyes were still very much teal, no trace of gold. Ienzo hadn’t had any reason to distrust him before now. He realized he didn’t want to be wary of Demyx.

He laughed a little. “I was just bored, is all. Wanted to know more about what I just got myself out of.”

He nodded. That much made sense. “It’s unfortunate, but a lot of history from that time is just… lost and shadowed in legend. Perhaps that’s why Xehanort was trying to recreate the Keyblade war. Perhaps he wanted to understand it for himself.”

“Maybe,” he said. He looked disappointed.

Ienzo shifted the books in his arms slightly. “Ansem might know more. He studied quite a bit of mythology when he began his experiments. I could ask him for you. I admit, I’ve never seen you become intellectually involved in anything.”

A hint of pink crept into his cheeks. “I just want to know.”

Ienzo frowned. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. I’m just…” Demyx exhaled. “Trying to figure things out. And I have no idea where to start. I don’t even have my sitar. I don’t really have much of anything. And I’m not meant to be here.”

Ienzo blinked. He couldn’t help but feel a tad suspicious. “Not… meant…?”

“Face it. I’m just here because you are all too nice to get rid of me. None of you even  _ like _ me. I don’t share a past with you, and I’m not a scientist.” An injured edge crept into Demyx’s voice, but Ienzo couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. So  _ that _ was the matter, not some… plan that got derailed. How paranoid of him to even think that. 

“Do you really judge your own worth using others’ opinions?” He asked. He could recall--quite vividly--times he had overheard people telling Demyx off, the harshness of their voices. Zexion had occasionally been part of it too, though more subtly. His backhanded comments has always seemed to roll off of Demyx. There were too many to count, really. And considering Demyx’d also joined the Organization in his formative years, of course that was having an effect on his psyche.

He looked down. “Of course I do. How can you not?”

Ienzo couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. The feeling sat oddly in his breast. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you haven’t felt welcome.”

His eyes were glassy. He was more upset than Ienzo had thought. He didn’t know how to comfort him and started to feel nervous. It would not be good for one of them to be unstable. “I have nowhere else to go,” Demyx said, and then, evasively, “I didn’t mean to dump this on you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Ienzo said quickly. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to lie. I’m not your problem.” He tried to smile, and Ienzo could see how much energy it took. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”

Ienzo again watched him walk away, unable to find anything of value to say to fix it. He wanted so badly to be a good person, but how could he do so when he couldn’t even provide anyone else with the slightest comfort? He held his books still tighter. Maybe there was something he could do. 

He did not go immediately to the lab. He went, instead, back to Ansem’s quarters and knocked.

“Come in,” Ansem said. He was at his writing desk, composing what seemed to be a letter. “Oh, hello, Ienzo. What is it you’ve got there?”

“Books irrelevant to the matter at hand,” he said. “Can you give me a general summary of what you know of the age of fairy tales?”

He set down his pen. “Of course I can, but why do you ask? Do you think this could help with Sora?”

“Perhaps, but also… well, Demyx asked me, and I became aware of the gaps in my own knowledge.” He set down the books he had and moved closer to Ansem. He was losing strength; even carrying those few volumes, his arms felt tight. 

“I wonder why,” Ansem said, with an edge of suspicion.

“I was a little dubious too, but I do not think there’s anything uncouth about it. To be fair, Xehanort did rely heavily on legends.”

“Yes, that’s right. No doubt the resonances of being a vessel have left him shaken. I’m afraid I don’t have any texts, but I do have a few volumes of fairy tales themselves in the study. You’re free to take a look, but be careful with them. They’re quite old.”

“Yes, Master. I know. Thank you.”

“And let me know if you need my assistance in the lab. I’ve been catching up on my letter writing, but I could use a break.” He smiled kindly.

“Yes. Of course.”

The study was really just code for yet another library, albeit full of Ansem’s most heavily curated texts, as well as many of the ones he’d written himself. Ienzo scanned over the familiar titles until he found what he was looking for. The children’s books were bound in blue linen with a silver embossing, with clear plastic wrapping to protect them. He sat on the floor and scanned the pages. The memory came unbidden--

Sitting as a little boy in Ansem’s lap in the rocking chair by the window, listening to him read these very same stories in that low, soothing voice, feeling him gently stroke Ienzo’s hair and a sense of everything being alright in the world--

For a moment he had to shut the book and bit down hard on the emotion welling within him. There was no word for it other than  _ bittersweet _ . He was grown now, and should not want childish things. He wanted Ansem’s respect again, to truly feel it. He wanted to feel as safe and, yes, as loved.

_ These thoughts are not productive. _

He continued to scan through the volumes, but found nothing that satisfied him. They were all fictionalized parables, meant to teach lessons to children about being selfless and not trusting strangers. Nothing about the Keyblade war in these volumes. Was one missing?

Ienzo sighed and began replacing the books. A faint breeze caught a vein of dust, and he coughed, momentarily thrown off balance. It was only for this reason that he found himself looking at the now-empty bottom shelf. A sheaf of papers was lodged between the upper shelf and the bookcase’s back wall. Ienzo gently pulled the shelf forward, cursing his physical weakness. The sheaf fell with a faint crinkle. He pulled it out and hastily replaced the children’s books.

How peculiar.

The paper was clearly very, very old; the only reason it hadn’t deteriorated entirely was because it was a sort of linen hybrid. The text on the title page was not written in his language, but runes that predated the World’s current written alphabet. His breath caught on a little thrill of excitement. Possibly Ansem didn’t even know it was here; it could have been left by one of his predecessors. 

This would obviously require translation. He wouldn’t be able to understand it now. Still, Ienzo could not help but crack open the first page, lifting it as delicately as possible.

There was text. A lot of it. But more than that there was music. Staff paper had been hand-penciled in, if the slight wobbles of the otherwise straight lines meant anything. Ienzo knew the gist of reading music--Ansem had taught it to him, aware of how it improved math skills--but this was beyond his comprehension. Notes cluttered the page, swooping in complicated trills.

There were more runes written under all this, functioning as a lyrical line. Ienzo had few characters fully memorized, but one pair caught his eye.

_ Keyblade. _

Another little thrill of excitement went through him. How convenient--how coincidental--it was that the only person in this castle who wasn’t a scientist was a master musician.

He had an idea.

* * *

 

Demyx was in the kitchen, listlessly picking at a bowl of old soup. 

Ienzo approached him. “There you are. I was hoping I’d see you around. I asked Ansem about the age of fairy tales. He doesn’t have any texts, but after some digging, I found this. He doesn’t know I took it from his library. He’s been… somewhat unobservant lately.”

Demyx looked at the papers, a puzzled expression on his face. “What is it?”

Despite himself, he was feeling real eagerness to discover what was in this project. It was rare, perhaps one of a kind. “I only saw the first page, so I’m not quite certain. Perhaps we may look at it together. Come to think of it, somebody should create  _ some _ record of that time. We can’t repeat history a third time.”

“I smell a new project for you,” Demyx said. There was a guarded cautiousness to the way he spoke.

He sat down. “Yes. Perhaps. When I am done helping Ansem.”

“What is Ansem doing?”

Ienzo realized he was referring to the project as Ansem’s, even though it was his idea. He had to stop doing that. “He’s trying to help Sora.”

Demyx flinched a little. Ienzo remembered that it was Sora who took his Nobody down, and felt awkward. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s vanished. He overstretched his power… and disappeared from this world entirely. Ansem is hoping that something in our old research might help the guardians of light find him. I am not so sure. You can only meddle with the forces in this world so much before there are natural, irreversible consequences. The guardians are… naturally quite cut up about it. He and I had formed something of a rapport as well. As much as I wish for him to be whole… I don’t want to give myself false hope.”

Demyx seemed unsure of how to react. “Whoa.”

An understatement. “There’s never a moment wasted in researching,” Ienzo said. “For all I know, there’s some clue in these papers. And I think you can help me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Me? What happened to “I’ve never seen you intellectually interested in anything?””

Now that he was hearing it out loud, he realized that Demyx had heard that phrase as an insult, and he felt bad. Maybe this would make it up to him. “Have a look.” He pushed the score towards him and opened the first age. “While my scientific education has been excellent, admittedly it is somewhat lacking in the arts. I only have the most basic skills when it comes to music theory. This… seems more up your alley.”

Demyx’s eyes widened a little. He touched the papers gently, almost with a sort of reverence. Ienzo noticed with relief that the fear in his eyes had subsided a little. He gestured to the lyrical line.

“They’re ancient runes. I’ve studied them a little. But I recognize the characters for “Keyblade”, and they’re in there,” Ienzo explained. 

Demyx kept reading. There was an intensity, a focus in his gaze that Ienzo had never seen before.

“I need an instrument,” he said. “It’s too complex to sing.”

“There’s an old piano in Ansem’s quarters. We can have Aeleus and Dilan move it to an empty study space. I’m sure it’ll need tuning.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, a small smile growing on his face. “I’m in.”

Ienzo couldn’t help but smile back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Ienzo begin to work together, but it evokes painful memories.

IV.

The space Ienzo chose was the one where he’d been taught as a boy. It had good, natural light from the wide windows, and was far enough away from the bedrooms that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone. It was also close enough that they could easily get back for water or tea, or the washroom. 

Like everywhere else, it was full of some ten years’ of dust. When Demyx saw it he groaned, and privately Ienzo agreed. 

“Well, we shouldn’t shirk,” Ienzo said. “Let’s clean up.”

“It’s not like we have Dusks to do it,” Demyx muttered.

“I’d rather not work in filth, would you?”

“No,” he agreed. “Let’s just get it over with.” 

He helped Demyx sweep through the worst of the dust. Even with the windows open, it made them sneeze. Once it seemed to be mangeable, he left Demyx to continue on and started retrieving books that might be helpful. Rune dictionaries, copies of the fairy tales with scholarly annotations, theory and music history (for context on the composer’s life), typical history. The composer had to be from Radiant Garden; how else would it have gotten here?

When Ienzo returned with another load of books, Demyx gave him a droll look. He was doing, surprisingly enough, a good job of it, and the original color of the floor was actually visible again. “For how insistent you were with the cleaning, I figured you’d be helping me,” Demyx said.

“It’s more efficient if we split our labor,” Ienzo said. “I hate to break away from my work once I’ve started. I’d rather be overcautious with materials than not.”

Once the floor was dry, Aeleus and Dilan brought the piano in. Admittedly it was a sorry sight to see, scratched and wobbly. Demyx stabilized it with a few blocks of wood. He looked at it like he might an old friend, with a sort of hazy nostalgia. He pressed the first sour key and flinched.

Ienzo knew he could not really be of help in this case. He watched Demyx as he propped open the old top, armed himself with a pair of pliers, and steeled himself for the work ahead.

He didn’t think he would find it interesting to observe, but he did. Without even use of a tuning fork, Demyx managed to get the keys back towards normal range with only a few delicate twists. And once it sounded more-or-less perfect to Ienzo, he kept adjusting.

“You must have a very good ear,” Ienzo remarked quietly. “To tell such minute differences.”

He seemed unsure of how to take the compliment. “Well, I would hope so.” He rolled his right arm. “We wouldn’t have to do all this if I just had my sitar,” he said bitterly. “That’s about as good as it’s going to get.”

Ienzo touched one of the smooth ivory keys. “Much better.”

“Still a bit flat, but I was afraid to pull much harder, especially on the higher notes. I doubt there’s any spare piano wire hanging around. It’s not exactly a commodity.” Ienzo noted, chastising himself slightly, that he’d never heard Demyx speak so deeply or knowledgeably about a subject and has assumed he’d been unable to. Then again, before now he’d never bothered to listen. Demyx played a chord. “It’s bearable, at least.”

Ienzo nodded. “Shall we get to work, then?”

His expression slipped. “Now? Don’t you want to take a break first?”

“Why? There’s still so much of the day left.”

Demyx rolled his shoulders again. “My arms kinda hurt.”

Ienzo sighed. “I could do with some lunch.”

It ended up being good that they took a break. He changed out of his dusty clothes and saw the room with a fresh eye. In his urgency, he’d left his books in a mess.  “I didn’t realize I left these so… unorganized.” 

With a notable hesitation, Demyx sat down on the little old bench. His posture for practice was good, but he looked tense anyway. He played some scales that sounded like they came easily, but there was a furrow in his brow.

“You look uncomfortable,” Ienzo said.

He shook his head. “Just trying to warm up.”

Ienzo turned back to his books. He wasn’t sure what the best way to keep them organized was. Subject? Date? Relevance? Of course he’d brought too  many; he always had. The steadiness of the scales became a sort of background noise that was easy to tune out, at least until he heard Demyx play a sour note. Ienzo saw him flex his injured hand. He’d attributed their early break to laziness, but honestly Demyx was likely in pain. “Is your wound bothering you?” Ienzo asked. He began to wonder how often people had assumed the worst of Demyx, only to have the behavior come from a perfectly logical place. Moreover, why had he let people drag him down like that?

“Just a bit stiff,” he said, with an odd smile. He kept playing scales, gradually letting them vary in rhythm and complexity, while Ienzo continued to get himself organized. Once he was happy enough, he sat in a chair close enough so that he could also see the score.

It was so dense and complex; honestly it looked to Ienzo more like a drawing than a song. At least the runes were legible, but that didn’t help Demyx. Even so, he seemed to sight-read with relative ease, making sense of the chaos and playing a beautiful, melancholic song. While he did made a few mistakes Ienzo noticed, Ienzo would have been more surprised if he hadn’t. 

But instead of looking relieved, or at peace or happy, when he got through the first part of the score Demyx pressed his hands between his knees anxiously.

“It’s lovely,” Ienzo commented. “But--rather sad. I wonder what it means.”

“Could just be what was on their mind when they wrote it.”

“Perhaps. We’ll know more when I translate. Keep going. I’ll try to remember the rhythm of the sung phrases.”

For a long time--it was hard to tell how long exactly, but the sunlight in the room was starting to darken--Demyx kept pressing forward. It was all woefully complicated. Looking at the notes made Ienzo dizzy. Instead he watched Demyx’s hands work across the keyboard, surely and competently. He was utterly, completely, and almost painfully focused as they passed from movement to movement, only pausing ever so slightly to turn the page. This was talent, raw and simple, and Ienzo felt a wave of guilt when he thought of how they’d all belittled Demyx for his obsession with his sitar.

This guilt broke his own concentration, and he noticed the bandage on Demyx’s hand was no longer clean and white, but soaked through with blood. He grabbed his shoulder. “Stop. Your hand.”

Demyx looked down, startled. The keys were faintly bloody. Ienzo grabbed one of the cleaning rags and tied it over the first bandage. Demyx did not seem concerned about his hand; he was more worried about the blood on the piano. He started wiping at it with another rag, discordant  clangs replacing the previous melodies.

“Leave it. You probably need stitches,” Ienzo said. 

“It’ll get stained if I don’t,” Demyx said. A sharp, anxious edge crept into his voice. 

“That’s all right.” It was a very old piano. That would be the least of the damage. “I’m going to get a first aid kit. Put pressure on it. About that much.” He squeezed Demyx’s right hand to demonstrate. He could feel the faint scratch of the thick calluses against his own soft, unweathered hands. He set off. He’d never seen Demyx’s hands without gloves, had never paid much attention to them before. In a way they were quite graceful when not hidden behind the Organization’s uniform.

Why was he thinking about this?

He found the first aid kit in its usual place, still well-stocked with sutures. Ienzo washed his hands meticulously, twice, and returned quickly. He crouched down and took the injured hand.  “Bleeding seems to have stopped. I suppose i must have misjudged how deeply the wound ran the other night.”

“Even did too,” Demyx said weakly.

“That’s odd,” Ienzo said. “I usually trust his judgement with these things.” He unwrapped the bandages and saw why. The wound was narrow but ran deeply. He cleaned it gently, but Demyx still hissed in pain. Then he prepared the sutures. “I’m sorry, this  _ will _ hurt. But it won’t heal correctly otherwise.”

The needle had barely pierced the skin before he was cringing away.

“Steady,” Ienzo said. He tried to move as quickly and lightly as possible, but even so it took nine stitches to close the wound. The irony of this was not missed by Ienzo, and while he did not believe in luck, he considered adding a tenth. He changed the bandages out for clean ones. “Nine stitches. Rather auspicious.”

He wiped at his eyes. “It fucking kills.”

“I can’t see how it would be… pleasant. Nonetheless, I think you should let your wound heal before we continue.” He sat down next to Demyx. “Of course, I should like to do some translation work. If it’s all the same to you, I can translate, and you can rest. For today… I think this is enough.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” More than anything, he looked exhausted, and he cradled his injured hand. 

Did his anxiety keep him awake as well? Ienzo nearly asked. Instead, he said, “I am curious, though. How many instruments can you play? I shouldn’t have assumed your mastery of piano, though you are rather skilled in that regard.”

The question seemed to startle him. He exhaled, clucking his tongue a little. “Well, I mean I don’t really know. Sitar, obviously. Stringed instruments tend to come really naturally to me. I don’t have much experience with brass or woodwind, but if I looked at it for a little while, I could probably pick it up. It just seems to make sense to me. You know?”

How Ienzo envied that skill. Nothing, not one little thing, had ever come so easily to him. Except perhaps overthinking. “Fascinating. So you’ve no formal training?”

He shrugged. “Not that I can remember. I mean,  _ some _ one must have taught me how to read and write music.”

Ienzo blinked. “What else can’t you remember?”

Demyx whistled, a low, strange sound. “Well, I mean, a lot, really. My past is… kind of blurry.”

That made no sense. If he were whole now, he should have all his memories. Ienzo wondered if there was a reason why Demyx hadn’t revealed his true name. “That’s… peculiar. Did you remember your past as a Nobody? The first time you were one, anyway.” 

He twitched a little, and a hand went up to his head as if in pain.

“Demyx? Are you alright?”

Demyx breathed shakily and audibly. His eyes were glassy, vacant; without warning, he fell forward in a dead faint. 

“Oh, goodness,” Ienzo said. He crouched down next to him and shook him, but he didn’t wake. He reached back into the first aid kit, looking for smelling salts of something of that ilk, but Even usually considered such medicine old-fashioned and didn’t stock it. Ienzo took Demyx’s pulse, noting it was uncomfortably high. 

What on earth? Was this some sort of reaction to his questions? Why? Had Xehanort deliberately withheld the vessel’s memory from them? 

He tried to lift Demyx’s body, but of course he was too weak. He sighed, more frustrated with himself than anything. He picked up his gummiphone. “Even? I need your help.”

It took both of them, but they were able to get Demyx into bed. Through all of this he didn’t stir in the slightest. Even took some blood, hurried out to run some quick tests, and came back some half hour later. In the meantime Ienzo waited nearby, afraid to stray too far lest something even worse happen. Despite himself, he was worried. It was hard not to feel at fault somehow.

“Well, I’ve check his blood count,” Even said wearily. “Everything is normal but the sugar and iron were low. I’m sure that explains the fainting. What you consider a trigger is no doubt a coincidence.”

Ienzo shook his head. “I’m not so sure. He had mentioned something about lacking memory. Why is it that when I tried to prod, he had this reaction? Roxas was similarly knocked unconscious when he strayed to Castle Oblivion.”

Even wrinkled his nose. “Ienzo, you know as well as I do that Demyx has a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps he just wanted some attention. Your worry is misplaced.”

He didn’t care for Even’s callous tone. But at the same time, he was the only person who had become human the same way Demyx did. “...Even, do you have all your memories?”

“Of course I do! I think I would know if that were not the case.”

This did not make things any clearer. “How odd. How odd…”

“His heart is not yet complete. That may have something to do with it.”

“I’m going to take a look at my notes regardless.” He’d never heard of such a thing. Was it perhaps a trauma-induced amnesia? 

“Still, this brings up the matter of our diet. I had suspected it is somewhat lacking, too high in carbs. Perhaps we can go down to the marketplace and find something more nutritious…”

Ienzo found it strange that, despite having studied memories and hearts for the majority of his career,  _ this _ was what he was hyperfixated on. “Aren’t you at least a little curious?” he asked in a low voice.

“I am. But at the same time, it’s still so early on. We know now that this recompletion process favors entropy. If we woke with our physical wounds, wouldn’t it make sense to wake up with psychological ones as well?”

“I… suppose.” He sighed. 

“He will recover,” Even said, with just the slightest bit of warmth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two bottles. “This is just some medication for him. Iron and a painkiller for that hand. I should have noticed how bad it was.”

“I’ll bring it to him. Thank you, Even.”

“I’m the only one here with a doctorate in medicine. My burden to bear.” He actually smiled a little, and set off back to his studies. 

Ienzo got some water for the pills. He himself was feeling dizzy and achy, and desperately tired. The last thing he needed was to fall ill. When he went back to Demyx’s room, Ienzo found that he was awake. “Oh good, you’re conscious. How are you feeling?”

Demyx was a touch less pale, but didn’t look good. “...Weird,” he said. “I don’t know why that happened.”

“You’re a tad anemic. And your blood sugar was low.” He set down the pills and water. “Even recommended you take some supplements. And I brought some mild painkillers for your hand. No doubt it’s several weeks’ of malnutrition catching up to you. I’m sure it was hard to come by good food when you were hiding.” 

He took the pills and water. Ienzo considered leaving, to get some rest of his own, but then he caught sight of the plant on the window. The soft, silver-blue-purple evoked something deep and startling within him. “That’s a lovely illumina plant. Where did you get that?” Pinpricks of memory, vague and faint--his mother, seeming impossibly tall, gently pruning the buds by the light of the full moon.

“Oh. Someone at the marketplace gave it to me. Aerith, from the restoration committee.”

Of course. Aerith was one of the few people in Radiant Garden who actually knew all of the local blooms. She used quite a lot of them in her healing. “Ah, yes. That makes sense. They’re a good group of people. I’ve been keeping in touch with them about Sora.” Demyx must not have known about its properties; in direct sunlight, the plant was slowly dying. “You needn’t leave this in direct sunlight, you know. They grow at night.”

“Did you study botany, too?” Demyx asked.

Another fuzzy memory of his mother, surrounded by plants in her study. ““Not quite. A specialty of my parents’.” He took the plant off the windowsill. At least it seemed well-cared for, other than the sunlight. “Can I see your stitches? I want to make sure you’re healing properly.” The wound had stopped bleeding, and looked to be healing well. He could feel again the warmth of Demyx’s skin like his own had memory. Ienzo didn’t understand. Had he been touched so rarely that it felt odd? Was that what this was?

“Thanks. I’m sorry about earlier.”

He shook his head. “That’s quite alright. I forget that you’re still adjusting. You should use the rest of the day to get some rest. I’m going to go and see what translation work I can get done while there’s still good light. Aeleus is making stew. I’m sure he’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

So Ienzo returned to the study room alone. He settled down with some tea and the papers and bent to study the first line of runes. It was not going to be as straightforward as he thought. The composer was using odd colloquialisms. After an hour or so, he’d barely gotten through one line, and even that was a guess.

_ Dawn town is a fucking mess.  _ Or maybe they meant  _ Dawn, town?  _ So  _ Dawn, and town is a fucking mess.  _ Unfortunately, the swear was the only part he was really sure of.

With a splitting headache and just his memory to rely on, the melancholic music made the space seem even lonelier. The unbidden thoughts of his mother didn’t help. He’d been incredibly young when they’d passed--five or so--and his memories were blurry and ill-formed.

Ienzo realized for the first time how brief his time at the castle had been as a human. Only three years. In his mind it felt like ages and ages. He’d learned so much, and when he was a mere  _ seven _ years old the experiments had kicked into high gear. Xehanort had spent more time with him, encouraging him with ideas until he had toddled over to Ansem, tugged the hem of his coat, and asked, “Master, what makes a heart?” And Ansem had said, “why, Ienzo, we’ve been wondering the same thing, what do  _ you _ think?” And he had said, “People who bond.” 

That had given them enough fuel and questions for the test subjects.

Ienzo wouldn’t make it as far as the washroom. He vomited in the kitchen sink. His head ached so badly he thought he might faint as well. Instead of cleaning up his mess, he had to sit down for several moments. 

Ansem came into the kitchen, likely to gather him for dinner. “Ienzo, is everything all right? Are you ill?”

“I think so, Master.” To his horror, his eyes were watering. The panic was hot and sticky in his breast. Thin, sharp memories stabbed him. The others, telling him lies, or what they thought was the truth--  _ Ansem’s gone mad, he’s been experimenting on children _ . He remembered the faces of the people they’d questioned, remembered questioning them himself, remembered the screams when they felt their bonds being ripped apart--

He jumped up and was sick in the sink a second time. Ansem rubbed his back and he nearly recoiled from the touch. 

“You must get to bed,” he said softly. 

The tears were hot and salty on his face. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and started to run water over his mess. Xehanort had lied, had turned them all against one another for his own purposes, made them think that casting their hearts off was a choice.  _ You will be free of all fear, of all guilt. _

“I shall take care of it. Let us go.” He guided Ienzo back to his room and waited until he had lay down. “First Demyx, now you. We might all catch it.” He touched Ienzo’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Maybe you ate something poorly?”

He couldn’t find the strength to say it wasn’t an illness. 

“I’ll get you some ginger tea. That’ll settle your stomach.”

He shouldn’t feel guilty that Ansem was taking care of him. He pulled the covers tightly around him.

“My dear boy. Go to sleep, alright?”

In the silence and stillness of the room, he curled around himself. He tried to hold back the tides of emotion and memory, but they battered him again and again and he couldn’t help but cry, weakly and pathetically, until his abdominal muscles ached. 

He didn’t want to be Ienzo. He didn’t want to be anybody.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo continues to work with Demyx as a distraction from the old experiments. However, a discussion about nightmares brings up more complicated emotions than he anticipates.

V.

For the next day--for the next several, actually, it was so hard to tell time in this lab--Ienzo worked tirelessly. He read through the backlogs of the apprentices’ original research, thousands of pages of it, examining and cross-examining psychological and chemical experiments alike. There had been, in total, some hundred subjects, not counting those who had been deemed outliers or had gotten turned away at the beginning. One hundred people. 

He knew better than to eat before he worked. He drank tea with extra honey to keep up his blood sugar and willed himself to feel numb.

The first dozen or so subjects had been volunteers, and unrelated to one another. After that, there were some pairs, a mother and son, friends. The first twenty or so had samples taken, were asked some questions about their life experiences and their relations to one another, and then the results were studied. This was the more-or-less harmless beginning. 

There  _ were _ physiological correlations for the existence of bonds between hearts. Heart rates would nearly synchronize, especially between family members or lovers or anyone who had bonded for many years, rather than just friends or those in strained relationships. Rates of oxytocin and dopamine were generally higher, and people were generally happier and more well-adjusted.

It was around then they started getting cocky. To put it mildly.

If the strength of bonds could make someone happy, what would happen if they were to break? Or if a person had no bonds--did that make them more unstable? 

They started to keep subjects longer, overnight, then for weeks on end, in those awful hollow cells in the lab’s basement. There was fear, panic, and this made it all the easier for the loaded questions to stick. Rather than build people up, this psychology tore them down.

Soon after the first Heartless was born from them. This person had been a young woman, and she’d screamed and screamed for hours before finally succumbing to the darkness within.

Ienzo remembered feeling scared. And to a degree the others had too, but they hadn’t backed down. They interpreted it as another discovery about human nature. 

He closed out of the files briefly and rested his head in his hands. This felt like torture. But if he could only find some insight, he might be able to use this pain to help Sora. If only he had samples from Sora and Riku, or Sora and Kairi. If the trace was there, physically, there might be some way to induce a sleep that would allow Riku to connect with Sora, something akin to what had happened during the Mark of Mastery exam. But how? He had no magic to perform such rituals, and to do so medically was dangerous. 

He felt like he was back at square one. Ienzo stood, noting the tremor in his knees. Firstly, he needed to eat and take care of his body. He could figure out the rest once he was stable. 

He did so, was able to keep down a meal and sleep for a few hours. His circadian rhythm was hopelessly off; it was the middle of the day. For some reason his teeth were chattering, even though he wasn’t cold, and he knew he needed a break from this project before it started to worsen his own psychological state. Yet to do nothing and purely rest would be a bad idea. He needed distraction.

Ienzo went back to the study room and sat on the bench. It was uncomfortable, he noted, not that he was after comfort. He opened the first page of the score. He could only read treble clef, and not very well; he had to mutter a quick mnemonic under his breath to orient himself. The metering was odd, too, with the sixteenth note carrying the beat. He tried to count it out. Did it work rhythmically with his translation? It was really only the written language that evolved, the actual words had remained mostly the same when spoken. 

Ienzo could not seem to get it right. Playing the keys felt awkward, though he could remember Dilan once remarking he had pianist’s fingers.

“You going ahead without me?” Demyx’s voice startled him. He smiled slightly.

“Oh, Demyx. No. Not quite. I just… I was trying to figure out the rhythm of a phrase. It changes the meaning of the characters in my translation, which changes the meaning of… just about everything.” He set his head in his palms. “I’d basically have to start over.”

“How long have you been at this?” Demyx asked. “It… seems like you’re pretty tired.”

Ienzo blinked, then looked out the window. The sky was pink. “...Quite some time,” he admitted. “I… tend to lose track.” 

Demyx sat next to him on the bench. “Which section do you mean?”

“This little bit here. See?” He touched the measure in question. Ienzo played the phrase, and he saw from Demyx’s grimace that he’d had it completely wrong. “I can’t for the life of me count it out correctly. I… should have waited for you.” In a moment of exhaustion, he considered confessing what he’d been up to. He didn’t want to bear it alone, but why should he burden Demyx? Their relationship was tenuous as it was. 

He held out his hand, unbandaged. The scar was red, but it seemed to be healing well. Ienzo was struck with the odd urge to run his finger over it. He hadn’t seen a naturally healed wound in a long time. That had to be why, right?  “Well, you’re in luck. I’m all healed up. Even took out the stitches. Let me see. Oh, right. I remember this.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s the meter. 29/16ths.”

Ienzo did not know what that meant. “Beg pardon?”

Demyx rolled his eyes a little. “I know, right? God, at least make it an even number. 30/16ths would be so much easier to count. And they’re short measures, too, that all bleed into each other. It’s so…”

“Chaotic,” they said at the same time. 

Suddenly, Demyx looked shy. “Well, it sounds kind of more like this.” He played through the bridge with more fluidity than Ienzo had. “I’m sure on the actual sectioned instrument it would be completely different. And that would be…” He thumbed through the pages, seeking the same phrase. “...This one. And it’s got a treble clef, which means your options are really, really open. ...What’s this?” He gestured to the rune next to it.

“They’re letters. Let me see.” Ienzo checked the dictionary. “My guess would be either an F or an S. Runes are, for whatever reason, pretty phonetically similar to our language now. If I had to start my studies all over again I think I would focus on linguistics. It’s just so delightfully complicated, and it really reveals a lot about human psychology how words and roots formed--” Goodness, he was rambling. He cut himself off. Linguistics was one of his favorite subjects in private study, but it had never applied to anything he’d done as an apprentice. It left it untainted.

Demyx’s brows furrowed. “An F? But it could mean flute, but that would mean it transposes higher, and that… feels off.” He played the notes in octave. “But if it’s an S… what could it be?”

Ienzo went back to his translation from several days previously. “Dawn. That’s the first character. So, if I’m correct at all, the first phrase is “Dawn town.” Maybe’s more like “Dawn, Town,” with a comma. Maybe it’s more of an action line. But that’s not the correct participle.”

With an unreadable expression, Demyx said, “Daybreak Town.”

“I’m sorry?”

He shook his head. “Not dawn. Daybreak. The rhythm wouldn’t fit.” He played it again. “It fits with “Daybreak”.”

That was absolutely correct, Ienzo realized. With a little jolt, he realized that, here with them working at about the same level of competency, he was having  _ fun _ with Demyx. It had been a long while since he’d found this sort of eager ease in his research. The pain of the past few days dissipated a little. “You’re right. That’s so apt. Daybreak Town. I wonder what that is. Is it poetic license? A place? I’ve no clue.” He stood up and started poring through geography books. “Perhaps there’s a reference to it in some sort of history…” The sunlight was fully through the window now, warm as it grew weaker.

When Ienzo looked back up, he saw Demyx staring at him with an puzzled look. 

“You’ve an odd expression on your face. Is everything okay?”

Demyx jumped a little. “Yeah, uh, fine.” He cleared his throat. “You seem pretty passionate about this kind of stuff.”

“Passionate?” He paused. Yes, that was right. “Yes. I suppose. I’ve never defined it at such, but I… I always feel most myself when I’m in my research. Making connections.”

Demyx nodded and sat forward a little. “I know what you mean. That’s how I feel when I make my music. Like… I’m part of something worth something. Like I have…”

“Purpose,” Ienzo said. “I refuse to believe things are meaningless.”

“I find you easier to talk to than Zexion,” Demyx said. “Why is that?”

The comment made him feel weak. Was it possible Ienzo was wrong? Could he ever leave behind Zexion’s darkness? “He and I are… not the same,” he said. “Every day I’m working harder to be a better person, to make up for all of the terrible choices I’ve made. It is… exhausting.” He looked away. He wondered if he should bring it up, this anxiety they had so in common, but decided against it. “You are different as well. I know it’s still hard to realize this.”

He shook his head. “The others don’t either. I just wonder how much of our Nobody selves were made of bad memories. I mean… I was a complete asshole. The way I treated Roxas--” He trailed off, turning pink. Was it possible he felt regret?

“It’s unfortunate there’s no way to quantify what you mean,” Ienzo said. “There must be purchase in it. If you’ve no conscience, no empathy, it’s easy to make bad decisions. Because none of it matters. I don’t want to live like that any more. Now that I’ve a choice.” It seemed like a revelation to him. Was Zexion psychologically different enough that he was not entirely to blame? But--what about when he was a child?

“Me either,” Demyx said quietly. 

This commonality found, Ienzo drummed his fingers on the piano bench. “Hopefully this research will shed some light on the past,” Ienzo said. “Shall we get back  to work?”

* * *

 

The next morning, Demyx was late. Ienzo was disappointed, but not surprised. He tried to push through a few more of the lyrical lines.

With yesterday’s context, the first line became  _ Daybreak Town is a fucking mess. _ Was it some sort of self-deprecating folk song? But considering how chaotically the song began, Ienzo wondered if it were more of a tone poem.

_ More fights breaking out. _ That line was simple enough.  _ Keys and sparks flying everywhere. _ By “keys”, did they mean Keyblades? What else could they mean?

While Ienzo puzzled this, Demyx came in quietly. He was pale, his face drawn, and he clutched one elbow in self-support. He started rehearsing quietly, his playing not as fluid or as perfect as before. Ienzo bent back over his book. He considered asking if something was wrong, but if it were, what could he say in reassurance?

“Do you ever have nightmares?” Demyx asked so suddenly it startled him.

“Well… I suppose to a degree. Everyone does at some point or another. Why is it you ask?”

“I had a really bad one last night and I can’t get it out of my mind. It just… it felt so real,” he said. 

So that was why he was so shaken. Ienzo turned towards him. “What was it about?” 

Demyx shuddered. He spoke haltingly, in a low, restrained voice unlike his normal patter. “I was in the Keyblade Graveyard. There were… so many bodies in armor… cut up… bleeding… completely dismembered… The Keyblades were everywhere. There was so much blood in the dirt that it was muddy, and red.”

Ienzo considered this. These dreams were terrible, but unfortunately a price to pay for surviving Xehanort. “Perhaps this is a manifestation of survivor’s guilt, because you weren’t one of the true vessels, and thus, didn’t perish in battle. It’s a natural psychological response. We internalize trauma differently as humans.” 

He hugged himself more tightly. “Trauma? Do you think I’m traumatized?”

Surely he didn’t think this behavior was  _ normal _ for humans? “In all likelihood, yes. I’m not qualified by any means to make that diagnosis, but considering what you’ve been through--and by extension, the rest of us--some sort of post-traumatic stress is not uncalled for.”

“I just want it to not bother me.” His voice dropped to almost nothing.

Ienzo frowned, knowing that sensation all too well. “I’m sure. If there was something I could do to help you, I would. Unfortunately, there’s no easy cure. You just must remind yourself that the pain you feel is illogical, and it will pass. The best key to these things is usually reason.” It wasn’t much help, but it was something he could offer. 

“Always one of my strong suits,” he said dryly.

“You just need something to center yourself,” Ienzo said. He was aware of how artificial he sounded, and he hated it. “Something you can hang onto when these moments come.”

Demyx’s eyes met his. “Do you experience the same thing?”

Right. He was sharper than they’d given him credit. There was a reason Demyx had been largely in charge of reconnaissance. “For many years. Even before the Organization.”

Demyx hesitated. “What happened to you?”

Ienzo froze. He didn’t have to tell him, but at the same time, part of him wanted to. “You know I was very young when Ansem the Wise took me in.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Of course.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. “Do you know why that is?”

“I just figured you were that smart.”

It was so much easier not to make eye contact. “You flatter me. ...My parents passed away when I was a child. It was… not natural.” Maybe if he said it quickly, he could get it over with.

Demyx turned towards him more fully, a sad, knowing expression on his face. “Heartless?”

“No. Heartless were not as common then. There was another type of monster, one created from negative emotions. We know now that they come from Ventus’s counterpart, Vanitas. But then… they were everywhere. I was actually coming from here… this very castle… with both of my parents. It was open to the public then. And… well. There was a swarm.”

The memories to him were very vague, cauterized by time and trauma. He remembered more having the story explained to him than experiencing it.

“Both of my parents passed. I only survived because Aeleus was on duty and stepped in. I’ve still got the scars.” It felt odd, but not entirely uncalled for, to show Demyx the scars at the top of his shoulder. They’d stretched and whitened as he’d grown, and often he forgot they were there.

It was then Ienzo became aware of how closely they were sitting; there was little enough space. Demyx lightly brushed his fingers against the scars. Ienzo flinched at the unexpected touch. “I’m sorry,” Demyx said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. And, um. I’m sorry about your parents, too.”

He fixed his shirt. “I don’t remember much of them, even now. But you see. When you insist I cannot understand… I understand better than you know.”

“Yes,” he said. 

For a moment they held eye contact. Ienzo could still feel what it had been like to have these scars touched, the slight calloused scratch. A feeling he could not recognize bloomed within him. Whatever it was scared him. He glanced over at the clock and noted with relief that it was getting late. “It’s about time for me to start making dinner. You’ll join us, right?”

“Right,” he said. Ienzo left. In his pockets, his hands trembled.

* * *

 

Ienzo had always thought he understood emotion, at least from a purely literal perspective.  _ This is sadness. This is fear. This is anger. _ And so on.

What was it he was feeling?

Whatever it was it was strong, and he could feel it under his skin, all too warm and alive. It was not necessarily unpleasant. The only anxiety he was experiencing came from the unknown.

After dinner, he sat in his bedroom and tried to puzzle it out. It had happened when Demyx touched his old Unversed scars. Ienzo ran his fingers over them experimentally but felt nothing but skin. The last time he’d been touched by anyone else--Ansem, when he was sick--he’d felt an odd revulsion. What was so different about Demyx’s touch? This was, he realized, the second time he’d felt this emotion, not the first; it had been there last week when he’d stitched his hand. And again when he’d watched him play piano.

Ienzo’s breathing hitched. He let himself remember having the scars touched, and felt a soft pulse of the emotion, like light. 

He got up and crossed over to his bookshelf. He pulled out the old dictionary and riffled the thin, brittle pages until he found what he was looking for.

_ Longing, n;  _ _ a strong desire especially for something unattainable. See also: pining, passion, lust. _

Was it even  _ possible? _

He put the dictionary away and sat on his bed, shaking all over. The panic made him dizzy. Somehow or another these feelings had grown within him against all awareness, bright and sharp and piercing. Ienzo  _ wanted-- _

That’s what it was. He wanted the unknown. And he wanted Demyx to be in it with him.

“Oh, fuck,” he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo tries to come to terms with his attraction to Demyx. Ansem receives a letter from Mickey with information that could help find Sora.

VI.

There was no need to panic.

Ienzo’s veins were tingling and acidic. Breathing hurt.  _ I am not dying. This is a psychological reaction. You are being too dramatic, Ienzo. _

There was no need to panic.

He needed to find the logic in the situation.

Feeling sexual attraction was normal. If he’d had a standard puberty he would have experienced it by now, most likely. He’d only ever felt an aesthetic appreciation for people. This was deeper, more intense, but altogether  _ normal _ . And considering how rarely Ienzo was around people his age, it did make a sort of sense that the first person he fixated on was the only one in the castle of his generation, and who hadn’t played a part in raising him.

There was no need to panic. This would pass with time. Wouldn’t it? It wasn’t as if he could actually  _ act _ on these feelings--he couldn’t even imagine it--

That wasn’t true. He could. 

The thought of it alone tightened the longing and anxiety so tightly together that for several long minutes he couldn’t think at all. He could only let it wash through him. 

Ienzo would have to be composed. It would be over soon.

* * *

 

He slept restlessly and tried to figure out the best way to spend his time the following day. To borrow the old phrase, he felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place--his investigation into Sora’s disappearance was painful but solitary, and his translations with Demyx were peaceful but risked his sanity in a whole new way. 

But he was too anxious to think about trauma, so he went down to the study room. To his immense relief, Demyx was not there. Rather than study the music, or parse more lines, Ienzo spent several hours refamiliarizing himself with the structure of the written runes and the most common characters, participles, and gender pronouns. He made himself eat lunch. When he returned, he tried to study, but found himself in a haze of dissociation.

“How do I be a better person?”

Demyx startled him in two ways, and he nearly fell out of the chair. “I was not expecting you today.” He looked up. The warm sunlight played off his eyes. Ienzo tried to will himself not to feel. He was not staring or ogling, merely making eye contact. As one does.

“I… I thought I needed a break. But I wanted to talk to you.” He looked a bit sheepish.

Ienzo smiled despite himself. “Well, do you need my permission?”

Demyx hesitated. “It’s just that you seem to know so much more about being better. And I… want to.”

He sighed. “I’m glad to hear that, but it’s not so simple. I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself.”

Demyx sat down next to him. His proximity was almost too much, and Ienzo pulled his hands through his hair. How on earth did people go around feeling like this all the time? He grounded himself in the heaviness of the subject, but his voice faltered anyway. “It’s about… knowing your own wrongdoings, your insecurities, your flaws, it’s about understanding where they came from and why, it’s about all the choices you make, broad and narrow, every single day. Morality is  _ not _ simple, it’s not just darkness and light.”

“I know that. I’m not as dumb as I seem.”

He blinked. “Have I ever said you were?” Demyx was shocked into silence. Ienzo, again, felt guilty. They’d all been so careless and cruel with him. He was just as brittle as Ienzo. The words spilled from him almost of their own accord. “You’re not dumb. You are sharp, you think clearly, you see things I cannot see. I think you have a problem with your self worth, and I think more than anything that’s what’s been holding you back. This existence has given you ambition like I’ve never seen before from you. Don’t squander it. Please.” He’d taken Demyx’s hand and squeezed it. He had to let go. Didn’t want to. Demyx looked down briefly at the hand he’d touched, then back to Ienzo’s own. Why did it seem that he’d also wanted that touch?  _ You’re projecting, and poorly at that. _

Demyx nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good. I will help you how I can.” He was smiling involuntarily; it seemed to have been ages since it wasn’t forced. Demyx smiled back. For a moment he felt warm all over, and the anxiety was bearable. 

Demyx broke eye contact, his hand touching his chest. He gasped, a tight, pained sound.

“Demyx? Are you alright?”

For a second time since they’d begun their studies, he fainted. Ienzo, again, felt helpless. He slipped off his lab coat and put it under his head. Demyx was breathing hard and fast, and his muscles were fraught with tension. Ienzo took his pulse. It was uncomfortably high, as was his temperature. He was about to call for Even when Demyx stirred, not quite breaching consciousness. Ienzo kept monitoring his pulse. As the minutes passed, it improved, but remained erratic. Somewhere in this, Demyx found the hand holding onto his and squeezed.

A shiver of relief passed through him. “Oh, good, you’ve come to. Can you speak?”

“I feel sick,” he mumbled.

“You’ve fainted.”

Demyx sat up woozily. Ienzo eased him back down. “Rest for a minute, okay? You’ve a bit of a fever.”

“I felt cold this morning.”

“That might be it.” Ienzo had his doubts. After several more tense minutes, Demyx’s pulse settled down to normal. “Can you sit up?” He slipped an arm under him and gently hefted him up. Demyx swayed a little. “We’ve got to try to get you to bed, alright? Lean against me if you have to.”

Even only taking part of Demyx’s weight, Ienzo still felt weak. In his peripheral, Ienzo noticed how terrible he looked, washed out and humiliated and fighting tears.

“Do you think this is systemic?” Ienzo asked. “Or psychological? What were you thinking about immediately before you lost consciousness? Do you remember?”

He didn’t speak. A pink flush crept into his cheeks. It could’ve been something painful, and Ienzo regretted asking. Demyx stumbled; Ienzo could barely take the extra weight. 

“I’m wondering if I should get Aeleus to come carry you. You’re very weak.”

“Please don’t,” he said desperately.

Concern welled in him. ““Clearly something has upset you on a deep metaphysical level--”

“I can’t tell you.” A sharp statement.

“Is it very personal?”

Demyx nodded. 

“Alright.”

Eventually they made it. Ienzo rolled his shoulders, knowing he’d be sore later.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said. He looked so weak, so sad, but if he didn’t want to talk about it it wasn’t like Ienzo could be much help.

“I’m not as strong as I used to be,” Ienzo said. He sighed. “Get some rest. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

There it was again, that surge of pity. “Do you believe I’d just leave you lying there?” Ienzo asked. Demyx hesitated and shook his head. He didn’t fully trust Ienzo. But why should he? He hadn't earned that trust. “Hopefully this pain you’re experiencing is temporary,” he said, and left.

Ienzo took a moment to try and process all he was feeling. The logical thing to do would be to try and avoid him, at least until these feelings began to fade. He wasn’t used to his thoughts being in disagreement with his body, and to an extent, his heart. 

He was too brittle, too undeserving, of romantic love.

He saw Even coming down the hall, his long blonde hair still wet from bathing. “Ansem was looking for you,” he said. “When you’ve a moment, go join him in the lab. Aren’t you still dallying about with Demyx?”

“It’s not dallying,” Ienzo said tiredly. “We’re actually working on a legitimate research project. It’s a very old score with lyrics in runes.”

“I never had much patience for anthropology, but it is very important to understand the past. I can see why you’d be drawn to it. Though I can’t help but wonder. What  _ is _ it like working with him? I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

Ienzo felt a shiver of anger at Even. “Actually, it is somewhat refreshing. He’s smarter than he acts. I wish you would ease up on him just a touch. He’s as vulnerable as I am.” 

He considered that. “Is that so,” Even said. 

“Might you do me a favor? He’s fainted again. Could you check up on him in a few hours? I was going to, but I should see what Master Ansem needs.” He briefly described what had happened. 

“Yes, I suppose. He is  _ quite _ sickly, isn’t he? It’s a wonder why I’m not as well.” 

“We’re all handling it differently.” Ienzo himself felt exhausted. “Thank you, Even.”

Ienzo headed towards the lab. His legs were heavy, and his shoulders ached. Still, when he approached Ansem he tried to neaten his posture. 

“Good afternoon, Ienzo.” Ansem smiled. “I’m sorry to tear you away from your personal project, but I have something that I think might be of use to you.” He patted the chair next to him. “Mickey answered my letter.”

“How is he?”

“He’s doing as well as he can, I suppose. He’s glad to be home, with the queen. Of course he’s worried about Sora, but we all are.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said. He wasn’t sure how this related to his work. 

“It turns out he himself had some rather intriguing data. He sent it over a few days ago, but it took me about as much time to get it sorted. Look at this.” Ansem pulled up a file. A lifelike, digital model of a younger Sora was frozen on the screen. 

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“This Data Sora was created in order to fight viruses hidden in Jiminy’s journals. Jiminy’s descriptions of Sora were so clear and detailed that he developed the same behaviors, and, Mickey believes, a similar heart.”

Ienzo felt his heart start pounding. “I had hypothesized that perhaps we could trace Sora’s disappearance using the bonds in his heart. If this is at all accurate, I might be able to test it.”

“You’d have to program a very intricate simulation, but yes, that’s what I was thinking as well. Mickey was also generous enough to send over all of the recordings of this Data Sora he could find, and Jiminy sent copies of his journals for you to review.”

Ienzo touched the model of Sora on the screen. For the first time, he wondered if it were actually possible for him to save Sora. 

“We should watch these recordings firstly, and then we can tweak copy and tweak the model appropriately. We might not have access to Sora’s newer memories, but we have the journals, which might allow us to fill in some gaps.” He opened the first of the recordings. “You might want to get comfortable. We’re going to be here for some time.”


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Ansem wasn’t lying.

The hours passed in a haze. Ienzo took feverish notes about the model, noting its unique behaviors. It started off with quite simple thoughts which gradually became more complex and human. As the recordings passed, Ienzo could  _ see _ it--him--grow and change just like a person. 

Eventually, his hand started cramping from the writing and his head ached from looking at the bright screen for so long. He barely noticed the pain until Ansem paused the recording. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” he said gently. 

Ienzo flexed his wrist. He wished he were ambidextrous. 

“You should get something to eat. Some sunlight.”

Ienzo looked at the clock in the corner of the monitor. Sure enough, it was morning; they’d been here all night. “Yes--I suppose--” When he stood, his knees trembled. “What about you?”

“I have a few things to tie up. I’m going to make another copy of these files.”

“Alright.”

He set off. He felt shaky with low blood sugar, and cursed the fact that he had to have a body. The kitchen seemed both very near and very far away. He saw Demyx’s shock of blonde hair and was relieved he was up and about. “Oh, Demyx. You’re alright. What--” His exhausted mind only then saw the black coat.

Demyx noticed his shock. “I did laundry. I had nothing else to wear.”

Thank goodness. He took a deep breath to settle himself. “Yes, I see. That makes sense.”

“I made coffee. It should still be hot.”

He took a cup. Coffee had never given him energy, but at least it was warm. He leaned against his palm.

“...Are you okay?” Demyx asked. “You look terrible.”

Honestly, Ienzo  _ felt _ terrible. Pulling all-nighters like this had scarcely bothered him so much as a Nobody. Being human intensified every feeling. “I should be asking you the same. I’m very tired.”

“Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Haven’t the time lately.”

Concern furrowed his brow. In this light, Demyx’s eyes looked more green than teal. “I don’t get it. You keep saying yourself that we have so much time now, but you aren’t using any of it to take care of yourself.”

He took a sip of his coffee--and lied. “I assure you I am in good health.”

Demyx frowned. “You don’t look like it.”

With that, Ienzo felt a faint echo of the longing. Demyx’s worry for him seemed genuine. “I’m surprised after your illness yesterday that you’re worried about me.” 

Demyx blinked. “Of course I am. We’re… we’re friends.” His voice faltered on the last word and he looked down into his mug.

Friends. Yes. “I suppose we are, aren’t we,” Ienzo said. He smiled. “I find I rather enjoy your company. When you’re not collapsing, that is.”

Demyx blushed. Ienzo could see it quite clearly in his sallow complexion, and it made his heart beat a little faster. But Demyx broke the tension. “What is it you’re doing with Ansem?”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Like I said before, we’re trying to find a way to help Sora. It’s very complicated work, and… emotionally taxing to boot. There’s a lot at stake here. And while the ideas we’ve had are exciting, I feel as though I’m approaching something beyond understanding. And that frustrates me.” He could feel his own face warming. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain to you.”

“No, I mean, you’ve dealt with all my stupid shit. This is big. No wonder you’re so stressed out.” He clapped his hands together. “I know. You need a break.”

“I haven’t the time--”

“You can’t help Sora if you’re burning out. Which, clearly you are. You’re important too, you know.”

He traced his finger over the rim of his mug. “...I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

“Course I am! Listen, if anyone’s an expert in slacking off, it’s me. Once my clothes are dry I’m taking you out of the castle to get some fresh air. In the meantime, you’re going to go to bed.”

“But I--”

Demyx shushed him. “You need sleep. When was the last time you had a full night’s, anyway?”

Ienzo looked down. “...I cannot recall,” he mumbled. 

“Exactly. Go take a nap.”

“Yes, I… that sounds much needed.” Ienzo stood and he actually stumbled a little. Demyx caught him by the elbow. 

“I’m going to keep an eye on your door,” Demyx said. “If I see you leave to go off do work I’m going to be super pissed. And I can be scary.”

Ienzo laughed a little. Goodness, how long had it been since he’d  _ laughed _ ? “You’re sweet to care. Thank you.”

“Go nap,” he said, so sternly it was funny. 

He took off his boots and lay in bed. He didn’t know how to fight these feelings. It was nearly addicting, to be cared for. But before he could process these emotions more logically, his exhaustion sucked him into a deep sleep.

Ienzo dreamt. 

In this dream he was a child still, walking through the cells in the pit of the castle. Heartless leaned forward, but rather than looking like Shadows or their counterparts, they were human silhouettes wreathed in darkness. “It’s him,” they would whisper from cell to cell, “it’s the boy.”

“That’s my Ienzo.” A younger Ansem. “You’ve done so well. Look at all this chaos.” With a smile.

Things warped, and changed.

“Master?”

He’d been small, too small. He’d had a question for Ansem regarding their research, one that seemed important, but it had been blunted to him now. In Ansem’s apartment, he saw Dilan, Braig, Aeleus, Xehanort, and Even, seeming impossibly tall.

“Where’s Master Ansem?” He’d asked quietly.

He remembered them making eye contact with one another. Even had reached out towards him, but Braig placed a hand on his shoulder. Xehanort came forward and crouched down to meet Ienzo’s eyes.

“He had to go away,” Xehanort said.

“Go… away?”

Even turned and walked towards the window.

“He wasn’t well,” Xehanort said. “He’s… he’s gone mad. He’s abandoned us.”

He remembered being unable to speak. It felt like getting choked. 

“You poor child,” Xehanort said. “You’ve already lost so much--but we couldn’t stand to lie to you.”

A sensation of breathlessness, of tightness, of the world going sideways.

“He’s panicking,” Even said. He came over and drew Ienzo into his arms. “Deep breaths, little one. Count with me.”

Months passed. The research continued. Most of the time he felt sick and anxious. Like the aftermath of his parents’ death, it was all just a touch blurry. The darkness grew. Multiplied. He was in the lab with the others, watching the gathered hearts of their prisoners. They spoke of darkness, of the ways it could be utilized, of what it meant for human nature. All of a sudden there was the sound of a scuffle. He turned, only to see Aeleus’s chest getting pierced with the Keyblade.

“You fools! What are you doing?” Even snapped.

“Don’t act as if you don’t know,” Xehanort said. 

Ienzo was swept into Even’s arms. He tried to run, only to be tripped up by Dilan. They both fell heavily to the ground. 

“Take me,” Even cried, scrambling to regain his footing. “But don’t hurt the boy!”

“The boy should’ve known better than to play in darkness,” Xehanort said.

A burning hot slash. He and Even were on the ground, their bodies boiling away. “Master?” Ienzo whimpered, but he was nowhere to be found. “Why is this happening? It hurts, why does it--”

Xehanort knelt down next to him. “Your master abandoned you,” he said. “But you will be made anew. Go to sleep.”

Darkness.

* * *

 

“Master?”

“No, it’s me, Demyx. I was just bringing you some water. Go back to sleep.”

An aqueous, thin, airless consciousness. Ienzo was curled up tightly. “Why is this happening? It hurts, why does it--”

Being shaken. “Hey. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Ienzo could not quite see, one eye still in the nightmare. He sat up. His chest felt like it was on fire. Demyx was sitting next to him.

“Try and breathe, okay? It’s over now. You’re safe,” he said gently. 

Safe. Reality crashed into him; he was not little Ienzo, he was an adult. Try as he might, he could not reason this panic away. Could not stop sobbing. Could not stop seeing Xehanort cut them down--and reliving that abandonment over and over again--he’d been lied to.

He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in circles. The touch did not revile him. He hung onto it and tried to use it to pull himself out of the nightmare. Things were becoming clearer; it was Demyx. 

Demyx hugged him. “You’re alright now,” he said. Logically, it was true. He was not in danger. The Heartless population was low. Ienzo leaned against him. The comfort of being held was slowly outweighing the panic. He could not recall the last time someone hugged him. It should not feel this strange or this foreign. It seemed a very long time before his thoughts started to run coherently again. Around then he realized the gravity of what had happened, and he pulled away and wiped at his raw eyes.

“Better?” Demyx asked. He handed him the water. “Here. Drink this.”

Ienzo drank it all down and loosened his tie. He was strangely numb.

“That was a memory, wasn’t it?” Demyx asked.

He nodded. “...You’re here,” he said. Speaking was difficult.

Demyx looked sheepish. “Oh. I mean, I was just checking on you. But then I saw you were dreaming, and I couldn’t leave you in the nightmare.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” His voice was more normal now. “Sometimes the memories are stronger than others.”

Demyx offered him a smile, but it was laced with concern. “Come on. You’ve seen me worse off.”

He hugged himself tightly. He wanted to be held again, but was too embarrassed to initiate it. 

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo shook his head. “No. Let’s… let’s go to town.” The castle, despite its size, seemed claustrophobic. He didn’t want to see it right now, or be anywhere near it. He needed air. 

“Are you sure? You just had one of the biggest panic attacks I’ve ever seen. Maybe you should just chill.”

“I need to get out of here,” he insisted.

Demyx hesitated. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Ienzo didn’t start feeling better until he felt the cool evening air on his flushed skin. 

“It’s getting dark,” Demyx said. “You sure it’s safe? Neither of us have weapons.”

Ienzo nodded. “The Heartless haven’t been as plentiful as of late. There’s also the town’s defense system.”

“...Right, but we see something, we’re heading back. ‘Cause I am  _ so _ not in the mood.”

He hadn’t ever been to town at night. It made the square look almost alien, with all the fairy lights strung up. This should have concerned him, but it was a comfort. He could pretend he was somewhere else.

_ That is not a healthy coping mechanism, Ienzo. _

Demyx’s voice was full of excitement. “There’s a concert in the square. We  _ have _ to go.”

“That must be new,” Ienzo said. “I haven’t seen anything like that here in a very long time. I should like to see it myself.”

The marketplace was crowded, but Ienzo did not feel overwhelmed. To be one in a dozen was a relief. He wanted to be invisible. Once they found the stage, Demyx began to push towards the front.

“There’s a bench over there,” Ienzo said. “I’d rather not sit on the cold ground.”

He looked disappointed, but conceded. “No problem.” He was looking everywhere, at everything, with such a vibrant interest. Ienzo’s mood eased slightly. He gestured to a concession stand. “Are you hungry? Let’s get snacks.” 

They did so, getting popcorn and a hard apple cider that was so sweet Ienzo could barely tell it was alcoholic. They settled back down on the bench. 

“I take it you don’t get out much,” Demyx said. 

“Not at all,” Ienzo said. “It’s very easy for me to forget about the mundane. I feel like all I do is look at the bigger picture. Especially lately.”

“It’s helpful sometimes. Otherwise it’s so easy to lose perspective. When I would do recon missions, I spent so much time picking apart everything about a world--its culture, its people, the power dynamics at play--that I would forget that everyone there is living. Sometimes I had to join them, to talk to someone, to just… remember I’m real. It’s the only way you can hang onto yourself.” He said this all very matter-of-fact.The insightfulness with which he spoke made Ienzo feel warm in the fall chill.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Ienzo said. “But how can I afford to put myself above everything when there’s so much at stake?”

“You’re not putting yourself above it. You’re treating yourself as having worth. Which is something you keep lecturing me about.” His gaze was bright, fervent. Ienzo’s heart was beating hard. 

“I think it’s starting,” he said. Anything to break eye contact.

The musicians were not very good, and the songs were old folk songs Ienzo had heard dozens of times. He found himself feeling a little bored. He observed the crowd for a little while--the young woman who spilled her drink, a small baby smearing cake all over its face, children bickering over ice cream--before he noticed Demyx’s expression. Rapt, unshakeable, and reverent. He’d needed this, Ienzo realized. 

There was a brief intermission. Demyx shook his head a little as he came back into reality, and then he jumped when he saw Ienzo.

“I’m sorry,” Ienzo said. “It was just so interesting to watch you watch them, so to speak. It was like you were in your own little world.”

“No. No, it made me feel a part of this one.” 

The musicians were back, and the music they played was more energetic. People started dancing, some of them half-drunk. Ienzo wondered if part of the warmth he felt was due to the alcohol. The pint had gone down a little too easily. 

“Do you want to join them?” Demyx asked.

“Me? Don’t be absurd.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Give me  _ one _ good reason why not.”

“We’ll look foolish.”

“More like  _ you’ll _ look dumb for being the only one still sitting. And besides. I bet half of these people are too drunk to care.”

“...I wouldn’t know how.”

“It’s not exactly rocket science.” Demyx offered his hand. 

Ienzo sighed and drummed his fingers against the seat of the bench. “ _ Fine. _ But do  _ not _ tell anyone about this.”

“That’s the spirit.” 

He took Demyx’s hand. The little jolt that passed through him made him freeze up. To do this--to dance together--almost like they were a-- “I changed my mind.” But he could not bring himself to let go of his hand. Demyx almost seemed not to notice.

He looked a little disappointed. “...Are you embarrassed? Hey, it’s okay. I’m just trying to help you relax a little. Do you want to go back?”

“Yes… perhaps.”

The air was even cooler as they walked back to the castle, the town lights seeming less bright. They had no trouble with Heartless. As they reached the postern, Ienzo looked up.

The stars were more numerous than perhaps he had ever seen. Even as a boy, the darkness had been starting to spread. Now, with the worlds restoring themselves, the night sky was full of light. Demyx pulled his hand gently, to go back inside.

“Just another moment. Look at the sky. I haven’t seen… I can’t believe…” He reached up and traced the shape of the constellations he had once memorized. “Why is it that I’ve never looked up? Look, Cassiopeia is there in almost its entirety. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen it in full. And Calliope.”

“It’s over,” Demyx said. “Finally.”

He could feel his eyes watering for the second time that day, but now it was far less painful. “No, there’s still so much work to do. And yet I thought this would all be over… because of me. Because of my mistakes, my insistence we did those experiments, almost everything was destroyed…”

“But the darkness was always there. You couldn’t have known what would happen. Anyway, you were a kid. Someone else should have known better and helped you.”

“You’re too kind to me, Demyx.” He shook his head and took his hand back. “Part of me will probably always feel guilty.”

“Then… let me help you with that. And I’ll be there to remind you of all the good you’ve done.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but this is my pill to swallow.”

There was a silence then, one full of a potential. Ienzo hesitated. The exhaustion of the day  made it hard not to be honest. “I… have enjoyed your company,” Ienzo said after what felt like an eternity. “You’ve shown me there is more to life than… well, guilt and research. It reminds me that I am human, and… real.” Maybe to feel such wasn’t a bad thing after all. 

“I know what you mean.” He could feel Demyx looking at him. “I always thought I would be alone somehow. And now I’m not.”

He turned slightly. Another type of anxiety flooded his veins. “Rather succinct.”

Demyx’s fingers brushed his cheek, holding his face delicately, like it was something precious. Adrenaline burned through him. For so long be had convinced himself this was not so, and yet… he placed his hand on top of his, wanting to feel whole, to be whole enough to enjoy this. 

Demyx leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were soft and cool, and the kiss was more of a question than anything. It was over before Ienzo could really consciously realize what had happened. 

He froze, all at once; the old familiar feeling of silence taking over him. It had been so long since that last happened that he didn’t know how to react. 

Demyx bristled. “I’m sorry. I thought--Look, I--”

Ienzo shook his head vigorously, trying to convey the truth, but he could not speak. He couldn’t even mouth the words. 

“Will you say something? Please?” Even in the soft light Ienzo could see the panic in his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt you--” 

Ienzo put a hand to his throat. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make a sound. He wrung his hands.

“I’m sorry. Oh god. I’m going to leave you alone. I’m so sorry.” And like that, he took off. Had he always been so fast? Ienzo tried to will himself to follow, but he felt fixed to the spot, a whole unexplored type of panic taking over him. 

Demyx had kissed him.

He touched his mouth uncertainly, partially in disbelief. So all of this touch had meant--

Demyx had kissed  _ him _ .

The moment kept running behind his eyes. He was shaking all over. Was this how he was meant to react? He felt sick. He felt exhilarated. He felt-- he felt--

_ Breathe, Ienzo. _

More than anything, he felt like an anxious mess, which was not normal. He walked slowly back towards the library. He needed quiet, lack of stimuli. He needed to process this.

Ienzo settled in his old favorite chair in a hidden alcove of the library and counted ceiling tiles until he was at least able to stop shaking.

Okay. So he’d been kissed. Most people his age had experienced this, and typically more. He’d never thought it was possible. He hadn’t, prior to several weeks ago, even  _ wanted _ this. And yet.

This only confirmed that he hadn’t been misreading the signs. The attraction between them was mutual. Where had it come from? And why on earth was it so strong? The only real connection they had was intense anxiety, and surely no healthy partnership could come of that.

And yet.

It was such a relief to have conversations outside research. It almost made him feel real, but at the same time feeling real was frightening. The fact that he’d gone nonverbal for the first time in years was testament to that. Was such a fear something he wanted? Maybe not. Was it something he needed to grow, though? To make this life even remotely worth living?

Say he entertained a relationship between them. There were only two--no, three ways-- it could go. The first being purely physical. He dismissed that option; they’d already started to bond more strongly than that.

That left two more.

Say it didn’t work out. This could be disastrous, and considering their sheer difference was statistically more likely. Considering for the time being Demyx had to live here, if there were a schism between them life at the castle could become unbearable. There was simply no way. The sensible thing to do would be to avoid him until Ienzo could ride out the attraction.

And. Yet. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to let himself think about this option in theory.

What if it did work out?

It seemed that their differences would be either an extreme strength or an extreme weakness. Demyx’s relaxed, personable nature complemented Ienzo’s uptight anxiety; perhaps his own sensibility and reflection could act as a counterpoint. There was also the matter of physical longing, which itself was potent. How much longer could he let himself live so stifled, without taking calculated risks? 

The sensible thing to do would be to nip this in the bud. Maybe it was the memory of the kiss, or maybe it was his own sheer exhaustion, but Ienzo simply didn’t feel like being sensible. 

He’d been sitting there for so long thinking that it was growing light outside. He stood and shook himself. His heart was racing again, but this time it was bearable. 

His footsteps were a little faster than normal. Was he really going to do this? It was all a little dizzying. 

Ienzo approached Demyx’s door, and knocked.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo continues to study Data Sora with the hope of bringing back, all the while trying to understand his newfound connection with Demyx.

VIII.

Demyx looked pale and unwell, exactly like he’d spent the night awake and worrying. “I’m so sorry,” was the first thing he said.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Of course I did. I forced myself on you--”

Ienzo shook his head. He was feeling weak now, and leaned against the dresser for support. “You’ve done no such thing. “I’ve thought… and I’ve thought… I’ve felt… something physical between us. The hints have been piling up, and this… longing I feel… I can’t categorize. I have to explain myself.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet his eyes. ““When I was a child there were times I would go mute,” he said. “Whenever I felt something strong, or experienced something traumatic, I would shut down. These spells have gotten less common as I’ve gotten older, but when I experience them, it’s impossible to communicate. It still happens now when I’m under exceptional stress, or surprised. 

“And you surprised me. I’m sure it was an odd thing to witness.” He was wringing his hands together. “I thought about it all night. Part of me wonders if this is displaced desire, or hormonal impulses on both of our parts. I don’t pretend to understand these things. I never had reason to in the past.  Maybe some would consider this a poor match. But I am tired of denying myself good things.”

Demyx’s eyes widened. “You mean--”

Before Ienzo could lose his nerve, he crossed the remaining few feet between them and kissed him back. They bumped noses and their teeth nearly collided. He had no idea how to do this and was momentarily thrown by the fact that it didn’t come as naturally as he’d thought. Demyx froze a little. 

“I know what you mean,” he stuttered. “About this being confusing, and weird, and probably a bad idea, but I… I’m all in, Ienzo.”

He sat down next to him on the bed. His face was flushed, and his whole body was warm with endorphins. Demyx took his hand. “I didn’t know what to expect,” Ienzo said. 

“When I kissed you? That was your first?”

“I never had the desire before. Or really, the time. I presume the same isn’t the case for you.”

“...Well. That’s true.” 

A few beats of tense silence. Demyx put an arm around him, lightly. “Did you want me to do it again?” 

“...I should… I should like that.”

He reached towards him and ran a hand through his hair. This time the kiss felt more like Ienzo thought it would, and he let himself learn. He let his hands rest at Demyx’s waist. There was a thrill in being held like this. The sensation was exactly like not feeling hunger until eating, and his composure was slipping. He traced the shape of Demyx’s face, the shape of bones, let his hands pull through the blonde hair.

Still. Ienzo knew how easy it would be to get overwhelmed, and he could feel he was rapidly approaching that point, pleasure seamlessly giving way to a sort of frazzled overstimulation. He pulled away. “I didn’t think it would feel this way.”

“Disappointed?”

“No. The opposite.” Ienzo could feel the silence coming now. His hands shook. “But I’m starting to feel ov-oversti--” There it went.

“Overstimulated?” Demyx finished for him. “It’s okay if you need space. This is all new to you. We can take it really slow.” 

Ienzo moved away a few feet and pulled his knees to his chest.

After a few minutes of breathing, Demyx broke the silence again. “You go quiet?” Ienzo nodded. “That’s okay. We can just chill here.” He swung his feet a little. “Is it okay if I talk?”

He nodded.

“It was really unexpected for me too,” Demyx said. “It just felt so much more real than anything I’ve experienced. Maybe it’s because I have a heart… or part of one, or whatever. I’m just… glad. I’m still barely catching my breath.” 

The fact that he’d wanted this too sent another warm wave through Ienzo. Aspects of their research were becoming clear. No wonder people in deep relationships had been so much harder to pull apart. There was a strength in this, one that bolstered the wall of anxiety he was constantly fighting.  And yet, a tenuousness, as well. 

After what must’ve been an hour he could feel his voice come back, and cleared his throat.

“Better?” Demyx asked.

“Quite. I’m very… I’m very tired.” He hadn’t slept in the better part of two days, and he could really feel it now. 

“Go try to sleep. And it seems like you’ve just gone through a lot. If it makes you feel better, I’m probably going to turn in too. Hard to sleep last night.” 

“Yes, I agree.” 

Demyx kissed him once more. “I’ll see you later.”

The rest of the day he slept. Effortless.

* * *

 

Over the course of the next two weeks, Ienzo’s life took on a comfortable pattern.

In the mornings, he and Ansem would review the footage of Data Sora. In the afternoons, he would spend time with Demyx, working away at the translations. In the evenings, dinner with everyone. Ienzo looked forward to those afternoons. Truthfully, since the confession not a whole lot had substantially changed about their interactions. They held hands, sometimes. Demyx was more comfortable showing physical affection than Ienzo, giving him the odd kiss on the cheek. Even this much was a lot to get used to. He’d wanted this, and now that he had it it overwhelmed him. At least Ienzo was able to take his time. He wondered if he were even ready to pursue something like this.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Demyx asked him.

“Not as frequently. And yourself?”

“No. Not really. I’ve been kind of distracted lately.”

“By what?” 

Demyx raised an eyebrow.

Ienzo nodded. “Right. Forgive me.”

He smiled. “Sometimes you’re immune to flirting, you know that?”

“Perhaps my way of expressing interest is far different than yours.” He smiled. 

“You make me read too much into it.”

“Isn’t that the point, as it were?”

“No!” They were spending less and less time working, more and more time talking, he noticed. About anything. He wasn't used to having such room to speak so casually.

Ienzo laughed a little. “It is… strange, being known this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel as if I’m to let you see a part of me that is guarded,” Ienzo said. 

“You feel vulnerable,” he said instantly.

That was exactly what this was. To let his defenses down was simultaneously easy and impossible. “Yes. It’s frightening.”

“Very,” Demyx agreed. 

“I had thought for so long that being open was a bad thing. Maybe it’s… necessary. Maybe in a way this is what I need.”

“...And now you’re flirting with me.”

“Very astute of you. You’re catching on.” Ienzo kissed him. It a way this felt like playing with fire. He didn’t really know his own limits, so whenever he approached them it was an anxious shock. He didn’t  _ want _ to break the kiss off, but he had to. They were both breathing hard. “I cannot stop thinking of this,” he admitted. “I thought there might be something wrong with me.”

“What, that you’re a person that has hormones? Congratulations, Ienzo. You’re like most of the human race.”

He didn’t make eye contact when he said, “I’m not used to feeling want.”

Demyx kissed his forehead. Ienzo wanted to pull him close, but the frazzled overstimulation was running over him in waves. His hands were shaking, and he was a little dizzy. 

“And you decided you wanted  _ me _ ,” Demyx said gently. “There was a lot of thought behind your decision. That’s pretty gay of you.”

He hadn't heard that word in a long time. Hadn't considered it part of himself or his identity. But it was true, wasn't it? This was more or less the textbook definition. “Don’t make me regret it.”

* * *

 

Time seemed to be passing quickly now. The days were not so dreadfully uniform. It got cooler. The translation work soon became nothing but a guise to spend time together. 

One thing was changing; Ienzo and Ansem had finished reviewing all the footage. Ienzo had two notebooks of notes, and that wasn’t even including what they’d gleaned from Jiminy’s journals. Ansem was going to help him start programming situations for their Data Sora to run in. Ienzo’s own programming skills were not terribly advanced, and he really needed the help. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t really shirk out of the work in the afternoons unless he wanted to tell him why, and Ienzo wasn’t quite ready for that. It wasn’t a fear of acceptance--same-gender relationships had always been legal and celebrated when Ansem ruled Radiant Garden--but rather a fear that Ansem would advise him against it. All that did was prey on Ienzo’s own insecurities. 

“I’m going to be spending a few days with Master Ansem,” Ienzo said one of those afternoons. “You might not see much of me.”

“The data?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo nodded. He’d explained, as simply as possible knowing Demyx’s feelings towards Sora, what was going on.  “The more time passes, the more everyone worries that Sora’s drifting farther away. He and I will be doing what we can, and a few of the others will be visiting too.”

“The others?”

“The guardians of light. I’m sure you know all of them.”

“We didn’t exactly… talk all that much.”

Right. Well, he  _ had _ been in hiding the majority of the time.“Well, you can see this as an opportunity to get to know them, then. It would be good for you to make some connections.” 

He looked away, a nervous glint in his eye. “I’ll try. Just like you better take care of yourself.”

“Or what?”

He smirked. “For me to know and you to find out.”

Heat crept under his skin. “I see. Not much of an incentive, then.”  Ienzo rested his hands on Demyx’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I like your hair soft like this. It suits you.” Whatever bottomless supply of hair product he’d had had run out, and he’d pulled the longer top part back. It fit his face better. 

“You think so?”

“Yes. A tad more mature.” It made his hair easier to touch, less sticky, but he didn’t need to know that. 

He smiled a little at the compliment, but then his eyes darkened. “Do you have to go?”

“I’ll be right here in the castle. We’ll see each other at dinner.” Ienzo rested against him for a moment. 

“...Do they know?” Demyx asked.

“Who knows what?”

“Ansem and the others. About us.”

“I… do not know how to bring it up.” Truthfully, thinking about it made him feel something like embarrassment. This was entirely uncharted territory, physically and emotionally. Would they think he couldn't control himself? Or that he was pathetic for throwing himself into the arms of the first person he was somewhat comfortable with? Moreover, this was  _Demyx_. They would surely have a lot of opinions about that. 

“Do you think he’ll be mad?”

“Master Ansem? No, I don’t think so. Surprised, no doubt. But he likes you. You did save him, after all. I know you two have not spoken much.” Ienzo couldn’t help but wonder what that conversation must have been like. How had Demyx found Ansem? It must have taken a long time, searching and calling. And Ansem must have been anticipating the reunion with his apprentices. Just the thought of that moment made his skin crawl with regret. “We will cross that bridge when we’re ready,” Ienzo said. “Maybe, for now, try and get to know them better. They haven’t seen you change the way I have.”  He sat down next to him on the bench. He meant to kiss Demyx goodbye, lightly and chastely, but that wasn't what it became. Ienzo felt himself being drawn close. They kissed long and slow and deeply. Ienzo wondered briefly what it might be like to take the kiss a little bit farther, and before he could check the impulse properly, he ran his tongue against Demyx’s lips.

He pulled away, stunned.

Ienzo’s face burned. “I’m sorry--I should have asked-- I have thought of this as an experiment. It… helps.”

“An experiment,” Demyx said slowly. “Yeah. I like that.” And kissed him again. His lips parted slightly. It was awkward, and spitty, and Ienzo had no idea what was supposed to feel good and what wasn’t. Demyx pulled his hands through his hair. Ienzo tried to copy the way he moved and found the result much more pleasant. Yes. Now he could understand why people did this. He felt giddy, positively electric. Demyx pulled away from the kiss and pressed his lips against Ienzo’s jaw and throat and for a moment, or maybe several, it was easy not to think. 

Did he deserve to feel this way? As their relationship outgrew the tenuous period and became more permanent, he couldn’t help but consider that this had been taken away from others because of his own cruelty. 

There was only one way he could atone.

Ienzo pulled away. “I really must go. He’ll be waiting.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. As much as I’d be happier sitting here with you.”

“Making out.”

“Well. Yes.”

Demyx kissed his cheek. “I’m serious about you taking care of yourself.”

“I’m aware. I will try.” He left the room abruptly, willing himself not to look back, treading guilt and lust in equal parts. He retrieved his lab coat and put it on, letting it act as a sort of mask. He was Ienzo, the researcher. He was going to make sense of this.

No matter the cost.

* * *

 

“I’m here, Master. I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Ansem was at the computer, plugging away at code. He looked up and smiled. “That’s alright. I’m laying the groundwork for you. You’d most likely have been sitting observing me anyway. How is it, with the project?”

Ienzo felt himself blush. “It… goes,” he said lamely. 

“I’ve always wondered what it might be like to have an outsider assist with our work. Sometimes it’s so easy to lose perspective. A third party can see things so much more clearly.”

“Yes, Demyx is actually quite sharp,” Ienzo said. “I feel rather poorly for how we treated him in the Organization. We’re actually developed something of a friendship.” He sat down.  _ Something _ was the right word for it. Against his will he thought of that kiss, and had to fight hard to keep his expression neutral.

Ansem nodded. “That’s good news. You need friends your own age. I fear, sometimes, that we’ve raised you to be an old soul.”

“Well. Nothing can be changed about that.”

Ansem kept coding. He barely had to look at the screen. “How is it you’ve been feeling?”

Ienzo considered. “Well--as it is--” He wondered if he might lie. He sighed. “Not… well,” he admitted. “My anxiety has been on the rise again. I just feel so much, so constantly. I thought as the weeks passed it would improve, and yet it isn’t. I’ve been having panic attacks with concerning frequency. I feel as though I'm not quite in control of myself."

Ansem’s fingers, on the keyboard, suddenly halted. 

“As well as nightmares.” He was aware of the way his speech was changing, becoming more fragmented, more casual, the more time he spent with Demyx.

“You poor boy,” Ansem said. “That’s quite a lot to deal with on its own, and then there’s the matter of your readjustment. Thank you for confiding in me.”

Ienzo glanced at the screen, at the lines and lines of code Ansem had built. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything, Ienzo.”

“You didn’t abandon us truly, did you?”

Ansem was silent. For several long minutes the only sound was the soft whirring of the computer’s fan. “No,” he said at last. “Xehanort and Braig were the ones to banish me to the Realm of Darkness. No doubt the lies they told you were very compromising. For the longest time I fought to get back to you. I knew how you must have been feeling, especially after you lost your parents. Believe me. But the Realm of Darkness is a terrible place.”

Ienzo felt numb. He took shallow breaths, in through the nose out through the mouth, like he’d read. 

“You have been so gracious to forgive me, Ienzo.”

“I do not deserve forgiveness,” Ienzo whispered. “I do not… deserve…” He was shaking and tried to keep breathing steadily. 

Ansem took both his hands in a gesture that meant to comfort. “Do you sincerely believe that?”

“All those lives that were lost--all the atrocities I’ve committed--”

“You were a  _ child _ . As the one who adopted you, it was supposed to have been my responsibility to teach you right from wrong, to steer you on the right path. But you were so bright. I exploited you, Ienzo, and that is not your fault. No doubt it was easy for Xehanort and the others to follow that example.”

He could not speak. 

“You are a very intelligent, very empathetic young man. You have shown tremendous strength in the face of adversity. You  _ do _ deserve forgiveness, if that’s what you need to hear, but there is nothing to be forgiven for.”

He blinked.

“I will spend my life trying to atone for what I’ve done to all of you. But you’re so young. You should not have that burden weighing you down.” 

His chest ached. Ienzo held the panic at bay by inches.  _ Ansem is right _ , he tried to tell himself.  _ He is right. It is not my fault. _ The thoughts felt hollow. Maybe if he repeated them enough they would be true.

* * *

 

Ienzo looked at himself in the mirror.

He did not consider himself a vain person. He had no strong feelings about his appearance in either extreme. It was a body, a body that was mostly healthy, and for that he was thankful.

His  _ (call it what it is, Ienzo) _ relationship with Demyx was putting everything into a new context. He was feeling certain things for the first time, and it made him aware that his body was worth more than being dreadingly carried around. 

_ That’s me. Not Zexion.  _

He almost, but not quite, believed it. His sense of self was so fragile, but it was growing stronger. He traced the scars at his throat. He remembered them, and for the first time instead of thinking of that same stranglehold, he thought of what it might feel like if they were kissed. A hot flush of want rose under his skin, the faint pink actually visible in the mirror. 

Ienzo was tired of fighting how he felt. For once, it was nice to just let himself feel, and dream. It was almost like breathing. It was so important to learn to do this. 

He wanted to be kissed, held--maybe one day he would be deserving of it. He looked at himself and saw potential. He would be good enough for Demyx. He would make sure of it.

* * *

 

He programmed in a fervor. Ansem guided him, helped with the more complex pieces, but for the most part it was Ienzo’s work. To create a digital world was easy. To make its inhabitants behave naturally was harder, and still harder was making a Data Sora. Ienzo worked for an unknown amount of time on the copy of Data Sora, but he did not seem to want to function correctly. He did not behave in the same unique ways that the previous Data Sora had; he was just an unfeeling chunk of programming. 

He was aware that he was growing tired, and thirsty and hungry, but those needs seemed to be easy to ignore at the moment. If he could just make  _ one _ good breakthrough, he would rest. 

Eventually, they had company.

Ienzo heard Lea’s voice first, and this was not at all soothing. At first he thought he might be imagining it, but then there were other voices, too. 

He stood and crossed over to the other section of the lab. His knees felt shaky.

“Hey, there you are!” Lea was cheerful.

It was surreal, especially considering his very exhaustion, to see them all, whole and human. Ienzo could barely even say hello. Lea approached him, looking sheepish.

“I know we haven’t gotten a chance to talk. But I gotta say I’m sorry.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “For what I did to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

Ienzo thought of what Ansem said about forgiveness. He considered his own atrocities, and how he felt now. He sighed. “Lea, I’ve already forgiven you,” he said. “I’d much rather move on. If it’s all the same.”

“You’re too nice now. Where’s your sass?” He smiled, but it was shy, underplayed. Somehow in all this Lea had gotten a lesson in being humble. 

“It’s still here,” Ienzo said. “I assure you.”

Isa approached him. “You’re looking well,” he said.

That was a lie, and Ienzo knew it. “Thank you. So are you. I can’t thank you enough for helping to bring Ansem back. What was it that made you defect?”

“I’d been his puppet for way too long,” Isa said. “And--to put it aptly--Xehanort idea’s of resetting the world, of having a clean slate, never quite sat right. Someone had to do something. It was just lucky that we had two members we could spare, and who were willing.”

“Yeah, where  _ are _ they?” Lea asked. 

“Even is busy with his work as usual. As for Demyx, he’s here in the castle. I’m sure he’ll be by shortly.”

“And everyone’s okay?” Lea asked. “No more gold-eyed monsters?”

“Everyone’s human,” Ienzo assured him. 

“Speaking of,” another voice butted in. Ienzo found he was having a little trouble keeping up with the conversation, all the different faces in the room. He must be more tired than he thought. Roxas offered him a smile. “We wanted to say thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ienzo said genuinely. “I am glad to see all of you again, and in good health. You’ve had no trouble with the replicas?”

“No, everything feels fine,” Naminé said. “But it’s kind of strange, getting to be me.”

A dark haired girl nodded. “Yeah, it is. But I like it.” Ienzo had trouble for a moment placing her, but then there were the memories. Xion grinned at him. “Do you remember me, Ienzo?”

“Of course,” he said. “It… truly makes me happy to know you’re doing well.”

“We came along for the ride. Naminé told me about the flowers here, and I wanted to see them.” Xion squeezed her hand, and there was a soft look between the two. Ienzo couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, had struck up some kind of relationship. “But we’re also worried about Sora and Kairi.”

Any semblance of cheerfulness was sucked out of the room. For a long moment nobody spoke. Ienzo took a deep breath. “I am doing my best to puzzle it out. If Sora is alive, or existing in some way, his heart is so unique that the bonds connected to it might hold the answer.” He explained, briefly, his hypothesis. “If I’m able to prove, in simulation, that there’s some way for one of you to contact him, then we can move forward and try it. With this sort of thing, I don’t feel comfortable throwing someone into the great beyond without the data to support it. We’ve lost enough people as it is.”

“But--” Roxas said, but Xion put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s right, Roxas,” she said. “We have to be careful. If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.”

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Ienzo said. “I feel… fairly confident. I just need a little more time. In the meantime, I’m sure you all are welcome here.”

“I wanted to talk to Even,” Xion said. “It’s thanks to him we’re all here, after all.”

“Demyx, too,” Naminé said. 

“He was a surprising addition to the plan, but it all worked out for the best,” Isa conceded. 

“People do have a tendency to underestimate him,” Ienzo said. “I’m sure he’ll be along once you’re through with Even.”

“I wish you could visit with us more,” Xion said.

Ienzo tried to smile. “There will be time for that, in the future. But I must get back to work. Isa, Lea, do you remember where Even’s lab is? Can you escort them?”

“Sure we can,” Lea said. “And Ienzo? Take it easy, okay?”

* * *

 

More hours passed. He ate a meal, napped for a few minutes. The code seemed to be fighting him, and Ansem agreed that, technically speaking, there was nothing  _ wrong _ with it. It was Data Sora himself. He didn’t seem to like the changes Ienzo had made to him, physically or otherwise, and would glitch and refused to move.

“Why don’t you take a break,” Ansem suggested. “A few minutes to clear your head. Maybe get some tea? I’ll take a look.”

Ienzo sighed. “Yes. Perhaps.”

He felt a little woozy the long walk back, but shook it off. There was time for rest later. If only he could present some sort of tangible result to the guardians while they were still here. Their faces had been so eager--

To his surprise, he saw Lea and Isa talking to Even, not far from Demyx’s bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” Ienzo asked. His heart beat unpleasantly quickly.

“Demyx fainted again,” Even explained. 

“He was hanging out with us, and we were just talking about our lives and pasts and whatnot,” Lea said. 

“It is strange he doesn’t have his sitar,” Isa added. 

“Well, none of us have our Nobody weapons,” Ienzo said. “It’s a pity, yes, but it’s just our biology.”

Lea gave him a droll look. “Then explain this.” He summoned, with perfect ease, Axel’s chakrams. 

Ienzo blinked. “Have you always had them, as Lea?”

“Since I woke up. Came easier than the Keyblade.”

Even and Ienzo exchanged a glance; he was just as puzzled as Ienzo was.

“And if he’s half as connected to his sitar as I am to these babies, --and he is--, he should definitely still have it.” The weapons disappeared. 

“We told him as much, and then he blacked out,” Isa explained. 

“He and I still only have part of our hearts,” Even said. “It’s made him very brittle.”

“He’s taken the loss very hard,” Ienzo said. “I hope this is a good sign that it’ll return to him.” 

“We’ve all handled this situation uniquely. I don’t think there necessarily  _ is _ a standard,” Even said. “I’ll try to investigate further. I should like to be able to use ice again. It made my experiments so much easier.”

Ienzo tried to figure out why the hall seemed so dark, but then he realized it was nighttime. When had that happened? He touched his forehead.

“Unfortunately, we must go,” Isa said. 

“Our ride’s here,” Lea explained. 

“I’m glad you came,” Ienzo said.

“So are we. It was nice to see the town nearly as nice as it once was,” Isa said. “But this place doesn’t quite feel like home anymore.”

“No,” he agreed. “Well. Safe travels. I hope you’ll visit when we’re all well.”

“That’d be nice,” Lea said. “Guess we’ll see you around.”

They left. Ienzo was feeling strange, oddly bereft. 

“Those two tire me,” Even said, to break the tension. “Lea would  _ not _ stop apologizing. As if the path to goodness is so simple.” He shook his head. “I admit it was nice to speak with Xion. She’s a lovely girl, very bright and personable. I should like to get to know her. To believe I created her myself, and I don’t understand her mind. It’s fascinating.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said numbly. 

“Are you off to get some sleep?” 

Ienzo blinked. “In a few moments. I wanted to check on Demyx first.”

“His vitals are stable and he’s merely asleep now. I was just in there.” 

Ienzo blushed. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Even nodded, and turned to leave, but then he changed his mind. “On the subject of people I raised… you  _ do _ know I still care for you, yes?”

Ienzo wondered if he might actually be asleep, and this whole day had been a strange dream. “What made you think of that?”

“Xion’s presence gave me clarity. I have been… cold, to pardon the pun. I have been isolating myself, and that is not healthy. I am wondering what it might be like to be Even again.” He patted Ienzo’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy. You’re too hard on yourself.” And off he went.

Once he was out of sight, Ienzo went inside Demyx’s room.

It was still minimally furnished, with nothing to make the space really his other than the little illumina plant, which added a soft violet glow to the room. A cool breeze blew in through the partially open window. Sure enough, Demyx was fast asleep. Ienzo perched on the bed reached out to stroke his face. At his touch, he stirred. “It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

Demyx blinked and stretched. “You came.”

“I heard you were ill.”

Demyx looked at him, really looked at him, and must have taken in how terrible he looked, because he said, “You’re tired.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about me right now.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. We were drinking, and I guess I’m not used to it. I’m fine.” The lie sounded unnervingly natural in his mouth.

“You don’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

Ienzo could see, in the pale moonlight, that his eyes were watering. “I was with Lea and Isa,” he said falteringly. “They were talking about their human memories, and how it connected to their weapons, and how my sitar should still be a part of it and I…” He was hiccuping now. “I don’t remember, Ienzo. I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Almost nothing.”

Ienzo’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t see why that is. If you’re human--or at least getting there--you should have no trouble remembering anything. I…” Considering all that he knew now, this information was troubling, but not surprising. Thoughts surged through his mind and he ached to voice them, to get some clarity, but he could see how much this had shaken Demyx and stayed quiet. Ienzo hugged him and felt him cling back, sobbing anxiously. The sound sent little fingers of pain through his heart. “I’ll help you figure this out,” Ienzo said. 

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said.

“Demyx, I’m positive this is not your fault.”

He held Demyx for a while longer, until the sobs quieted and he leaned tiredly against Ienzo. Ienzo longed to keep holding him, to rest together, to tell him everything that had happened that day. But the thought of such a thing also made him anxious. He kissed him on the cheek. “Try to get some rest,” he said. “I’ll come find you tomorrow.”

As exhausted as he was, when he lay down alone in his own bed, he could not sleep a wink.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo finally makes some progress in the investigation, but at the cost of his health.

IX.

As much as Ienzo tried to sleep, his mind kept spinning dizzily, emptily, with half-formed thoughts from the day before. Worry for Demyx and frustration over Data Sora mixed together in a pungent slurry. He counted his breaths, and tried to relax his muscles, but the effort of relaxing was actually worse than being tense, so he let it be.

He felt nauseous, so he did not eat. He went, instead, back to the computer, noticing for the first time just how  _ messy _ the space was. Ansem had never been very organized. But Ienzo did not clean. He sat down and booted the program. It ran, but Data Sora still looked stiff, and awkward. He walked into a wall and stood there. Ienzo closed out of the program and sighed. He coughed a little. The air had always been insufferably dry in here, partially due to the machines, and spending so much time in here didn’t help. 

Ienzo opened up Data Sora’s files. He hesitated a moment, and then opened up the code for “memories”. 

This Sora had been given all the memories from the copies of Jiminy’s journals Ienzo received. Even that small amount seemed to stretch endlessly on the screen. Ansem had done a little bit of rigging to allow Data Sora to have access to Roxas’s programmed memories as well. 

Ienzo drummed his fingers on the keyboard. An idea began to hatch behind his eyes. It was more of a risk than anything. He hesitated, then started copying a third version of the Data Sora. Even though this data was not human, and even though Ienzo would do it no harm with this code, he couldn’t help feel a twinge of guilt. 

He started writing the code. Ansem’s language vastly simplified things, but it was all still complicated to try and get the renderings right. By the time he had something workable, his hands were shaking with nerves.

The model turned of its own accord. It looked up, around. The movements smooth, fluid. 

He wrote a message to display on the Data Sora’s gummiphone.  _ Do you remember me? _

The model looked at the text for a moment.  _ I think so, _ he wrote.  _ You helped with Roxas, right? _ He texted the same way the real Sora had, without punctuation. Ienzo felt a little thrill. Of course. Of course. Without anyone to latch onto, how on earth would the Data Sora gain sentience? His new friendship with Ienzo had been enough. 

_ Yes, I did. _

_ Why am I in Twilight Town? _

Ienzo breathed quickly. His heart was beating strangely, the rhythm off, but he attributed it to excitement.  _ Twilight Town is safe, _ he wrote.  _ But can you help me with something? _

_ Of course. What is it? _

_ I’m trying to find you. The real you. _

_ I’m not real? _

Ienzo sighed.  _ You’re real, but you’re made of data. _

_ Like Roxas when he was here. _

_ Yes. The you that was not made of data has disappeared, and we’re trying to find you. Your friends all miss you _ , he added. Then, a bit more recklessly,  _ I miss you. _

_ I miss you all too. But I don’t know how to help. _

_ That’s okay. We can figure it out together. _

Something warm was running down Ienzo’s face. At first he thought it might be sweat, but when he touched his chin his hand was bloody. He swore and pressed a cloth to his bleeding nose. He shut out the program.

He’d said he would rest when he’d made progress, and he had. Ienzo stood, noticing the ground pitched a little. How many days had it been since he’d slept? Two? He’d taken a nap yesterday, right? Or had it been the day before?

His heart was beating oddly again. The bleeding wasn’t slowing down, and he could feel it, wet and hot against his hand. This used to happen when he pulled consecutive all-nighters, but it had never been this bad before. The blood soaked his handkerchief. He was horrified, and yet also fascinated, to see the blood had stained his jacket as well. He felt giddy, dizzy.  _ Very not good. _ He needed to sit down and rest. He was almost back to his room. He would get something sweet to raise his blood sugar. He would be fine.

“Are you alright?” Demyx asked. His voice startled Ienzo. “What happened?”

“Nosebleed. Very bad one. Nothing to worry about,” he said around the cloth pressed to his face. “Air too dry.”

His face was taut with worry. Demyx guided him over to a chair and made him sit. Ienzo was glad for the stability of the wood. He took the other clean handkerchief out of his pocket and replaced it with the old one. Demyx passed him a glass of orange juice. “Lean forward. You don’t want to swallow it," he said in an odd voice. 

His heart was beating weirdly again. “It doesn’t usually take this long to stop.” The words came out of him without any forethought.

“Do you get them a lot?”

“Only when I… oh.” He was so frazzled he’d forgotten his promise to take care of himself.

Demyx’s lower lip twitched in disappointment. “Only when you overwork?” Demyx asked. “You haven’t rested at all since the last time I saw you, have you?”

Ienzo said nothing. He looked down at the cloth. The bleeding seemed to have finally subsided. He had a vicious headache. How long had he had it?

“Drink your juice,” Demyx said, with more than a little sharpness.

He sipped. The pain was worsening.

“You should lay down. Please.”

“I will,” Ienzo said. This time he really meant it. He didn't think he physically _could_ do much else, and the humiliation of letting himself deteriorate this far sent a shudder through him. “I--” The pain flooded his vision with stars.

Demyx’s voice hitched with apparent anxiety. “Do you want me to get Even?”

The last thing he needed was to be told off. “No. I’ll be fine.” He just needed some sleep.

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ienzo tried to stand. His pulse was still off-beat. His knees gave out under him. His ears were ringing curiously, like he’d hit his head, but Demyx had caught him under the arms. He was barely aware of the touch. It was not like fainting; he could barely move. Dizziness curled the straight lines of the walls.

Pressure on his cheek. Demyx’s voice sounded like it was underwater. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Talk to me. Squeeze my hand.” Try as he might, he couldn’t. The world felt and tasted slippery, and things clipped in and out of awareness at an alarming rate. He found himself being carried, his cheek pressed against Demyx’s chest, and then he was lying on his bed which was blessedly soft. He could only vaguely hear Demyx and Even talking. Pinpricks of pain as Even stuck him with medicine. At least his heart rate wasn’t so weirdly off anymore. He could move a little, could twitch open his eyes, though his sight was blurry. “Demyx?”

Pressure on his hand. His teal eyes were full of worry and concern. Or were they green? 

“What--” He tried to ask.

“You passed out. I am going to yell at you when you get better. Just a warning. I can be scary.” He tried to offer a smile, but it fell flat.

Ienzo’s eyes were wet. He had scarcely been so dehydrated and yet somehow he was crying. 

Demyx kissed his forehead. “You’re going to be okay. You just have to get some sleep. I’ll be right here.” 

He let his eyes fall shut. A blanket was tucked around him. Had it always been this soft? He was so tired… had he been sedated? And yet it felt so lovely...

Watery words. “So.  _ That _ is the nature of your connection with Ienzo. He  _ has _ mentioned you an awful lot. But I must admit I am flabbergasted. What is it you two even have in common?” 

Ienzo had just enough sense left to acknowledge that the cat was out of the bag. Yet he found it something of a relief. 

“I don’t know. But I… I care about him. And I think he feels the same about me.”

There was a little flutter of warmth in his breast. Was this real? Was he half asleep? Did it matter?

“It is not up to me any longer to try and stop that boy from making mistakes. But if this ends poorly… you realize there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes. I know.”

“That is all I have to say about that. At least until I process this. I am  _ much _ too tired. I’ll come back to check on him. If there’s any unusual change, notify me at once.”

“I will.”

More pressure on his hand. To be warm and cared for wasn’t all that bad. 

Sleep. At last.

* * *

 

Ienzo woke up slowly. His muscles ached, but he was feeling better. His vision was clear, and he could move freely.

“Hey,” he heard. “Nice nap?”

Ienzo looked up at Demyx. He rubbed his eyes; they were tender and raw. An IV line snaked from his hand to a bag of fluid. No wonder he was so sore; dehydration and a probable potassium deficiency had settled in overnight. “You’re still here?”

He sat at the foot of the bed. “Well, of course. You scared the crap out of me.” He didn't look well either. His eyes--definitely teal, not green--were bloodshot, and he held himself stiffly. 

Ienzo glanced down at his shirt, faintly stained with blood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I should have listened.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“I  _ do _ trust you,” Ienzo said.

“Then why didn’t you listen?”

He looked out the window. “I thought I was  _ so  _ close to a solution,” he said. “And… when Roxas and the others visited, seeing their faces so full of hope… and knowing that I gave it to them… I could not in good conscience take myself away.”

“Okay, but, you know if you had gone much longer without sleep, or even  _ water _ , you might not have woken up.”

Having rested some, Ienzo knew he was right. Prior to collapsing he’d been experiencing serious symptoms of both exhaustion and dehydration, and he’d written them off, too disoriented to recognize them for what they were. Guilt made him cold.  “Is it true what you said?”

“What?”

“To Even.”

“You… you heard all that?” He gritted his teeth a little. 

“Yes.”

He turned pink.  “Yeah. It is. I care about you.” Demyx touched Ienzo’s cheek. “Why else would I get up in Ansem’s face?”

“You… did that?” He blanched.

“Yep. And he says I’m right. You’re going to rest. You and I are going to hardcore  _ chill _ for at least a week. You’re going to learn from the expert.”

“A week away from my work? With you? That might be…” He was clearly too scattered to be able to adequately take care of himself, and he would not put himself through the shame of this again. He nodded. “That might be manageable.”

Demyx kissed him once, lightly. “I’m glad you think so, because unfortunately it’s out of your hands. Doctor’s orders. Well… is Ansem a doctor?”

Ienzo shrugged. “He has at least one doctorate. I’m unsure if it’s in medicine.”

“Yeah. Well, either way, I’m right.”

Ienzo stretched. “I should like to clean up and change. Perhaps eat. I slept for so long but I could very nearly go back to sleep.”

“You need it. Do what your body wants.”

He nodded. After a moment’s pause, he kissed Demyx again. “I have missed you.”

Demyx squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

 

He removed the IV line, ate a good meal, bathed to wash off the blood, and went back to sleep before his hair was even dry. He slept and slept and didn’t dream, and when he woke up he was surprised at the lack of aches and pains. If he remained an insomniac after this, he would swallow his pride and ask for medication. It was not worth the toll it was taking on him. He was also ravenously hungry; it was the first time he’d felt real hunger in a long time. His clothing, when he dressed, was noticeably loose. He needed to gain some weight back. He looked down at the pile of clothing from the other day. His favorite gray sweater vest seemed to be ruined, and he sighed. It had been a long time since he'd felt comfortable in his clothing.

Demyx was already in the kitchen, drinking coffee. “Oh hey, you don’t look like a zombie anymore,” Demyx said.

“I do feel quite a lot better,” he admitted. “Not…  _ good,  _ but better.”

Demyx made them both breakfast. The food was simple, but Ienzo was so hungry that it tasted good. Appetite at last somewhat sated, Demyx asked, “So what do you want to do today?” 

The question threw him. He’d never had much opportunity to play as a child, and as a teenager usually when he’d had free time he’d read. Not very exciting. “I’ve really… no idea,” he said. “I think we have different ideas what constitutes leisure.”

Demyx snapped his fingers. “I think I’ve got it. First thing we’re going to do is go back to bed.”

His face burned. He didn’t mean--? Not possibly--?

Demyx’s eyes widened in panic. “Not like that! God, get your mind out of the gutter, Ienzo. Haven’t you ever spent the day in bed?” 

Oh. That. He was mostly relieved, but at the same time, disappointed. There was no way he was ready for something like...  _that._ The longing was so exhaustively potent. “Well--maybe when I was very ill.”

“Maybe that’s what you need. Sometimes it’s good to just do  _ nothing. _ ”

“That sounds… very nearly boring,” Ienzo said.

“Kinda the point. You gotta give your brain a rest. Away from all the stimuli.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” he said. “If only because my critical thinking feels dangerously frazzled.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They returned to his room. There was just enough room on the bed that they didn’t have to touch. Ienzo settled back down against the pillows. “So we just do  _ nothing _ ,” he repeated. It sounded bizarre. What was he to do? Count the ceiling tiles? 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I guess you could read, or something. But nothing strenuous.” He got back up and turned towards the bookshelf. Demyx hesitated over the titles and picked at the first book in Ienzo’s favorite childhood series.  “What about this one?”

Ienzo cracked a smile. “That one? I haven’t read it since I was a boy. It’s a silly fantasy story.” He'd meant to pack it away when he removed his childhood things in the initial cleaning. He'd told himself that there was no room elsewhere for it. There was no shame in holding onto the sentimental. He was just so unaccustomed to the practice. 

“All the more reason to revisit it now. And besides, there’s got to be a reason you’ve kept it.”

“All right… well… I suppose…” It was gleefully immature, not exactly a challenge to read. Demyx settled a bit closer to him so they could both see the text. Ienzo, having tread this series many times, skimmed it lightly and quickly. He knew it all beat-for-beat. Revisiting it, though, with an adult perspective, was interesting. It was always children saving the world, even in fiction. Children being jeopardized. Would it have made a difference, if he'd known what was coming? 

Demyx frowned. “Can you go back? I missed that whole part.” 

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He flipped back. “I have a better idea.”

He read aloud. The author’s poetic, sing-songy language felt good in his mouth, and he read eagerly. He leaned back, trying to get more comfortable, and found himself resting against Demyx. With the reading as distraction, it didn’t make him as anxious as it might have. Demyx's arm curled around his waist tentatively. 

He read through the first five or so chapters and was dreadfully thirsty. “Throat’s dry,” he said, and reached for the glass of water at the bedside table. He set the book aside and found he hadn’t minded touching like that. It was a different kind of intimacy, soothing a different need of his that seemed to have bloomed along with his humanity. To crave touch was entirely natural. Though to say his ravaged psyche came from _not being hugged enough_ was entirely reductive. “Yes. I… think I could do with a week of this.” He let himself settle more comfortably into the embrace.

For a long time they held each other. Demyx stroked his hair. He hadn’t ever been held like this; maybe as a very small child. And really this was  _ very _ different than that. He felt as though it were too much and not enough, like his skin was thirsty. His hands shook. Though as the minutes passed, the tension eased. The sleepy, comfortable tenderness of the moment lulled him into a sort of daze, and the next thing he knew he was waking up. They’d both slipped down against the pillows. 

“We fell asleep,” Ienzo said softly. He cracked his neck and then winced at the crick.

“Just a nap, I think.”

Yet more sleep? He was supposed to be resting, he reminded himself. It was okay. His limbs felt warm, somewhat slack. Was it the medication Even had given him? “I feel… soft, if that makes sense.” He ran his fingers through his hair to fix it, shook his head, and let it be a lost cause.

“Because you’re actually relaxing for once. All that tension you carry around all the time isn’t supposed to be there. The fact that this feels unfamiliar to you is more than a little concerning.”

“Times like this make me uncomfortably aware of my unusual upbringing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. In the Organization, I mean. Maybe you weren’t as lazy as I thought.”

Demyx laughed. “No, I was. I really was.”

“Not so much anymore.” This version of Demyx hadn't shirked from anything that Ienzo had witnessed. Perhaps his new heart was instilling a lost sense of ambition. 

“I wouldn’t go that far. You haven’t been around a whole lot lately. You don’t know what I get up to.”

“What  _ is _ it you do all day?” 

He shrugged. “Just kinda wander,” Demyx said. “Through the castle. Through town. I like exploring.”

“As do I. Part of the reason why I always looked forward to reconnaissance missions. People are so very  _ fascinating _ . But now… it seems like I need a better understanding of myself. How do I synthesize Zexion and Ienzo? At some point do I draw a line between the two? How much of him still lives in me?” He did not feel the same, even though they wore the same face. How long had he sat, inactive, cruelly planning the Organization's next takeover? Unwilling to dirty his own hands? There was only so much an emotionless childhood could excuse.

“I think about the same thing every day,” Demyx admitted. “I feel like the last month or so has been one very long, very tedious identity crisis.” Doubly so, for him; he didn't even have memory to draw off of.

““Tedious” surely is the right word for it.”

“Stressful.”

“Wrenching.”

“Annoying.”

Ienzo smiled. “I’m glad you understand.” 

“‘Course I do.” 

Ienzo hesitated for a moment, then threw his arms around Demyx. The want was back, and stronger, and he was just so  _ tired _ of denying himself things. Ienzo looked up at him. “May I ki--”

But Demyx, who had already picked up the hint, was already kissing him. This wasn’t just physical, Ienzo realized, though that was potent. They cared for each other, perhaps deeply. And after that whole episode of exhaustion, he needed someone to look out for him. He needed that in order to grow, to be better, to be more conscious and to not make the same mistakes. And that was okay. It was okay. There shouldn't be shame in needing to be cared for every now and again.

These revelations shook away the worst of the anxiety, and while his hands shook, it wasn’t from panic. He felt at the muscles along Demyx’s back, strong and soft. Ienzo’s body felt like a live wire. To feel so much all at once was both strange and divine. He felt himself getting aroused. Admittedly it was startling, but he choked the fear down. Demyx would not hurt him. This, too, was natural. Part of being human.

Demyx kissed him along his jaw and throat, and he heard himself gasp. “Let me know if you want to stop,” Demyx whispered.

“I don’t.” Little slivers of pleasure bloomed against his skin. Every time he thought he had a grasp on this, it seemed to reach out of view.

Demyx rested against him, his head against his heart. He trembled faintly. Ienzo realized he was not the only one feeling all this for the first time. 

“You’re shaking.”

His voice was high and breathless. “Am I? I feel so  _ much _ \--”

“I do too.” He kissed him first this time, catching the hem of Demyx’s shirt and pulling it off, only to have his own sweater removed. He could see the scars all along his chest. Demyx brushed a finger along Ienzo’s own. “It’s how I passed,” he said quietly. “As a Nobody.”

He kissed them. Ienzo pulled him even closer, and in response Demyx drew him down against the bed. Pressed up against one another like this, Ienzo felt the warmth of their bodies, especially between their legs, and the hardness, startling and bizarre and yet also tantalizing. For a moment--not nearly long enough--they touched each other freely. Ienzo knew he wasn’t ready for whatever came next, as much as he wanted it. It had taken so much work just to get to this point.

“I can’t. I want to, but I--” he said.

Demyx looked relieved rather than frustrated. “I know. Me too. It’s just so… much. I thought I was ready. But I…” He lay back down on the bed next to Ienzo, and shifted away so that they weren’t touching. 

Ienzo was surprised he could still speak. But the only thing he could think of to ask was, “...Does it hurt?”

Demyx blinked. “Does it--you mean--?”

Without making eye contact, and with the strange new pressure between his legs, he nodded.

“No. I mean, it’s uncomfortable the first time, a little, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“So you’ve done it, then?”

“...A few times. Not that much.” He sat up, blushing. “To clarify, we’re talking about sex, right? Not astrophysics? Because if that’s the case I’m hopeless.”

Ienzo laughed.

“Like I said. When we’re ready.  _ If _ we’re ready. I shouldn’t assume--”

“When,” Ienzo said quietly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A calm morning out ends badly when Demyx and Ienzo make a discovery about Ienzo's family.

X.

Ienzo slept surprisingly well. Demyx had provided him with unheard-of comfort, and his anxiety was momentarily soothed. When he woke up after sleeping a blessed ten or so hours, he couldn’t help but crave being held again. He wanted--he wanted--

_ You are an adult. _

He wanted to make love.

Ienzo sat up. He looked out the window, at the beautiful fall morning. His hands trembled slightly. This was normal. This was all normal.

Of course he knew how it worked; he wasn’t naive. He’d studied enough and been taught enough about biology to understand the base mechanics. That doesn’t mean he could understand how it would make him feel. Or what he would do if these things happened in real life. And yet, curiosity and desire were starting to override the thick, heady fear. 

Vulnerability was… terrifying. If the past few days meant anything, he needed that. He needed that openness. And perhaps it was lucky that he was with the only other person who could understand. 

Ienzo had to invest in their relationship. More than anything, he had to invest in himself. Otherwise--otherwise--well, there really was no reason to go on, was there? It was true. How could he possibly atone? There was no point also being unhappy. Devaluing himself would only lead to him working himself to death. And he still had so much to experience in this weird, weird existence.

He ate breakfast and kept reading the fantasy story. There was such an appeal in endless fiction, in stories where the hero always came out on top. Demyx came into the kitchen. His hair was still wet. He kissed Ienzo and sat across from him. This week would be good for them, Ienzo thought. 

Yet, the small part of him that was always bitter couldn’t help but see it as selfish. Why did he deserve this?

Before he could spiral much further, Demyx asked him,  “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you always keep your hair in your face? Is it an aesthetic thing?”

Yes. That. Ever since he was small, he’d found the weight of the hair comforting. Sensory overload often overwhelmed him; dampening some of his senses only helped ease that childhood anxiety, and he'd seen no reason to change since then. “You sound like Even,” Ienzo said, shaking his head. “Partially, I suppose. When I was little the weight of it would help me avoid sensory overload. Now it's just habit more than anything. I assure you I can see quite well."

“Really?”

“Yes. Seeing or hearing too much would cause me intense anxiety, especially certain pitches. Not so much anymore."

“Mythology,” Demyx said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I just want to learn more about you. That’s all.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Can I see it?”

They really did still know so little about one another. Ienzo knew almost nothing about Demyx’s past, though to be fair Demyx didn’t remember much either. “It looks like the other one. But, I suppose, if it will sate your curiosity.” He pulled aside his bangs. 

“...You have a nice face,” Demyx said, with some hesitation.

He blushed. “...Thank you. I-I don’t have any strong feelings about it,” he said, with a laugh. 

“So what do you want to do today?” Demyx asked. 

“I’m not so sure. It might be nice to get outside. I hear the weather is good.” Now that he was feeling physically more stable, it would be good to get some air.

“You hear things, but you don’t know.” Demyx sighed. “You have so got to get out more.”

“Precisely why I suggested it,” Ienzo said. 

They left the cold, damp castle and stepped out into the sunlight. The warmth of it was welcome. The fall breeze was crisp and sweet and not too cold. 

“The light feels good,” Ienzo said. “I feel as though I’ve lived here, but I haven’t been a part of it.” Radiant Garden was where everything had started, and where he’d be able to do the most good. Where else would he go? He felt none of the frenetic need to travel and escape that had plagued his teenage years. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

They walked through town, holding hands. This was a silent step in their relationship, but one nonetheless. It felt very nearly normal, to shop together and murmur inane comments about the state of merchants’ wares. Ienzo knew he had been living too macroscopically. He had to learn balance. But how? He'd lived his entire life in a state of overwork and psychological deterioration, and it had badly stunted any small amount of real emotional maturity he would've gained as a human. Reason could only partially salve that. 

Demyx bought some seeds and they shared the snack as they took their walk. He looked at the change in his hand. “I’m going to have to get a job. I’m almost out of money.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” Ienzo said.

“What happened to the ambition you saw in me?”

“It doesn’t  _ necessarily _ relate to making a wage.”

“Cool. Great. Now even you don’t believe in me.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Could always ask to make you my research assistant.”

“Yeah, like that’d go over well.” Demyx snorted. 

Ienzo laughed. “You’d be miserable. You’d quit within the hour.”

“Well--with you it might not be so bad.”

“No, I’d find you much too distracting. In multiple ways.” 

Demyx squeezed his hand.

“Besides, your talents lie elsewhere.”

They sat on a bench and fed the birds. “...I don’t know what will happen,” Demyx said, scattering a handful to the birds. 

“In the future? Or in general?” It was strange to think that there were some sixty years left in their natural lives. All his plotting hadn't taken into account living that long. Ienzo had seen himself as a pawn, a tool, but not a person with meaning and value.

“Both,” he said. “I mean, I thought I would know, once I became human. But I feel pretty aimless. Haven’t you thought about what will happen after Sora? Will you keep doing experiments?”

That threw him. “I have not… put much thought in it,” Ienzo said. “Yes, maybe I would research something else? But I haven’t the slightest idea what it would be. Part of me thought I would never make it this far. But here I am. And here you are. And my life has taken turns I never thought possible. I… I don’t know.” His hands fluttered at his throat. “This existence scares me.”

“Me too. So much.”

“I could spend my whole life thinking about what it means to be human after all that and still be wrong.” He hesitated. “I know it’s early yet. But I hope that you might be perhaps involved in some way.” The quiet, casual intimacy of the moment soothed him. Ienzo looked at him, seeing him almost with new eyes. This was more than want, it was a comfort. Demyx grounded him and made him see what was important. He was too blunt not to.

Was this, he realized in a flash, what it meant to be in love?

Demyx kissed him. It was a sort of kiss built on a promise. But they were in public, and things could only go so far before it was inappropriate. The weight of all these realizations had sapped his energy, though it was a good type of exhaustion for once. “Shall we head back?” Ienzo asked. “I’m feeling a little tired now.”

Demyx jerked, like he was coming out of a dream. “Yeah. Of course.”

Ienzo followed him through a shortcut which doubled-back through an old residential district. The Restoration Committee hadn’t yet spread its reach this far, mostly because there wasn’t enough of a population to need the extra housing. The people who hadn’t been killed or turned into Heartless remained mostly displaced, happy with their lives in Traverse Town or elsewhere. Nine years was a long time to be gone.

Ienzo hadn’t come through this part of town in many years. There was still rubble in places, old char and rot from fires. 

Demyx shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t like it either,” Ienzo said. “Let’s hurry. Might be Heartless about.”

They picked up their pace for a moment, heading through labyrinthine streets towards the castle. At first Ienzo thought his deja vu was misplaced, but the farther in they went, the more he was convinced he recognized the twists and turns of the streets, through a dull veil of memory. He paused, trying to remember more clearly. 

“What’s up?” Demyx asked.

His memory moved slowly, lacked clarity, as only the ones from his early youth did. It wasn’t--it couldn’t be-- “This place feels… familiar.” He approached the door to one of the homes and brushed the dirt off the nameplate, only to see his very own surname staring back at him. 

This did not feel like shock or pain; he felt like he was watching himself in a film. He reached for the aging door.

“You know it?” Demyx asked.

Speaking was hard. “This used to be my home. This is the first time I’ve come out to this part of town in many years.”

“You mean… with your parents?”

Ienzo went inside. He did not believe in fate. But yet why was it they stumbled upon this place when he was just beginning to forgive himself? There had to be meaning in it. 

The home was smaller than he remembered, the ceiling lower, a standard three bedroom. The memories trickled back gently. The third bedroom had been his parents’ study. He could recall sitting on his father’s knee as he worked. He studied mostly--astronomy, that was it. 

And yet.

All the nice things his parents had collected had been broken or stolen in the years since. Glass, from windows and vases and various knick-knacks, littered the floor. The plaster walls had been broken open.  “Someone must have been after the copper piping,” Demyx muttered. “Assholes.”

A peculiar sensation tightened around his throat. The memories were so weak and yet also so potent, in this dark dusty room. Here he’d been safe, innocent, loved. If not for that day he might’ve grown up here. The world might not’ve fallen. Ienzo tasted dust on his tongue; he was breathing quickly, shallowly. 

A callused hand tugged on his. “We really should go.” Ienzo pulled away.

There was something hidden in the glass and dirt. He knelt, picking carefully so as to not cut himself. It was an old photo, the colors having degraded over time. He saw himself. Mother. Father.

“Do you want to take that with you?” Demyx asked. “We can frame it. Make a memorial for them.”

Demyx’s words barely reached him. “I thought I would feel something.”

“What?”

The dust coated his mouth. “Demyx, I don’t feel anything.”

He crouched beside Ienzo. “You know how when you’re about to cry or have a panic attack and everything is numb? I think that’s how you feel.”

“I’m a monster.” He spoke without meaning to. This was the opposite of going nonverbal. 

“That’s not true. Don’t you ever say that about yourself.”

Ienzo could not believe the assuredness with which he spoke. Demyx’s opinion of him was clouded by emotions, and hormones. He could not possibly be right. The air in the room grew colder, smokier.

“Ienzo, we have to go  _ now _ ,” Demyx said, tugging his arm a little more forcefully. 

“If they knew what I was responsible for--”

“You need to calm down. There are Heartless and they’re reacting to you.”

“...then they’d wish I’d never been born.” It was only with a rich sense of irony that his parents had been killed by Unversed and not Heartless. The memory spun clearly. He’d been very small, five years old, holding both of their hands. They’d gone to meet Ansem the Wise. Mother and Father discussed their research, but then Ansem had spoke to him, gave him a puzzle toy to solve. 

“He’s a very precocious boy,” Ansem had said, “It takes my adult apprentices far longer to solve this.”

And then the voice, soft and startling, Mother smiling. “Ienzo loves puzzles. He’s very good at them.”

“With a proper education he’ll go very far.”

“That’s part of why we want to be apprentices,” Father said. “We want him to have a good future. All of your initiatives have brought this world an unprecedented amount of progress. We think we can help build the type of world he would thrive in.”

They left. Past the castle gates. Into the square. Strung between his parents, holding their hands in each of his. 

Blue creatures. Being surrounded. Father trying to distract them, Mother scooping him up and trying to run, only for her way to be blocked by more monsters. Getting knocked down, a hard scratch across his shoulder, being heaved up in the air (why did he feel it twice?) and fighting against the arms that held him with all of his strength.

Someone said his name--was it Father? He saw them, their bodies, bloody and dismembered, and he screamed.

Falling onto the hard street. Sky above. Sitting up. Curling up. Can’t move. Doorway, Heartless (Heartless?). Demyx. Touching his shoulder. Pulling Ienzo into his arms as he came back into the present.

He wasn’t sure how long it took to come fully back to his senses. The memory faded, gradually. He shook uncontrollably and his chest ached. Demyx kissed his forehead. “You ready to stand?” he asked. “It’s going to be dark soon. I don’t trust that nest.”

Ienzo could not speak. He didn’t trust his own strength and had to be helped up. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly. It didn’t seem to do any good. 

Demyx, again-- “I’m sorry I had to force you like that. I just didn’t want them to attack you. Especially when you were so vulnerable. You get that, right?”

His shoulders were aching. Probably later they would be bruised. He turned back towards the road, putting one foot in front of the other seemingly forever until he was back in his own room. He shed his dusty clothing, put on something clean. Saw his own adult face in the mirror.

_ My name is Ienzo. I am twenty years old. When I was child my parents were killed and I was adopted.  _ Telling himself his history like it was a story seemed to help.  _ I was educated. I was manipulated into doing experiments. They hurt people. It is not my fault. _

Wasn’t it?

The room around him seemed claustrophobic. Here he was behind closed doors, alone, and he could not reason away the trauma. 

He needed Demyx, his voice, his arms around him. But Demyx was too good for him after all he did. Ienzo was disgusting, he was--

He had to silence this noise.

It had gotten dark. He crossed down the hallway, over to Demyx’s bedroom and cracked open the door. He was fast asleep, curled up tightly. Ienzo approached him. Even to just be near him might be enough. 

Demyx was mumbling unintelligibly, but even within this speech Ienzo could hear pain. Some words he could understand. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this. Please don’t--”

Ienzo shook him. A storm howled outside, rain battering against the window. Demyx stirred weakly. “You were having a nightmare.”

He blinked slowly. “...Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I can’t sleep. And I know that if I’m alone I’ll only torment myself.” 

Demyx lifted the covers. “Come here.” He shifted slightly, to give Ienzo space, but that was not what he needed. He rested against him, his head against his chest. He could hear Demyx’s heart rate, high and frightened. “Your heart’s still racing. What were you dreaming about?”

“I already forgot,” he said.

Ienzo listened to the rain. What had Demyx gleaned from when he’d blacked out? “I thought I could handle it on my own,” Ienzo said. “But I can’t. Doesn’t that make me weak?”

“No. Not at all.”

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“You were having a flashback. You weren’t in control of yourself. Do you want to talk about it?”

That was absolutely what it had been. “No.” 

“Alright. That’s alright.”

Demyx stroked his hair. Ienzo breathed for a while and listened to the rain. This spell, whatever it was, seemed to be breaking, and he found himself relaxing against him. Just to not be alone was enough. 

“Will you stay?” Demyx asked him.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Despite himself, he slept.

Ienzo woke in the grayness of dawn. Sleep had calmed him, taking him back to a place where he was in control. 

They’d spent the night together.

He’d wished it had happened under better circumstances. It could’ve been sweeter, meant something. And yet as it was he’d spent all his time awake trying to pull the pieces together. The thick sheet of rain outside suited his mood. “What a gloomy morning,” he mumbled. Demyx was already awake, tracing patterns on Ienzo’s spine.

“You sleep okay?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yes. You make a good pillow.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I’m still so very tired.”

“It’s the weather. And yesterday was a long day.”

“Very, very long.” Ienzo sighed. “I don’t think I’d mind if we stayed here for a while.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’ve always loved the sound of the rain. Especially in the spring. It’s so cleansing. It makes me want to curl up with a cup of tea. Read something halfway decent. I can't remember the last time I read a novel for the pleasure of it.” He yawned. “Maybe later.”

“Maybe.”

He propped himself up on an elbow. “I’m glad you’re here,” Ienzo said. “I can only imagine how… difficult this experience would be otherwise.” It all honestly, it would scarcely be survivable without destroying him first.

This surprised him. “I… I’m glad I’m here too.”

Ienzo kissed him. Even after seeing all that, their relationship was still whole. If he wanted to go forward, he had to truly learn to let people into his life. He had to be vulnerable in order to heal; otherwise it was all just scar tissue.

The kiss deepened. A warmth and a lightness crept through him and gave him stability. Demyx pulled his hands through his hair and kissed the scars inflicted by the replica. Each sensation was brighter than the last. He no longer felt so brittle, he felt strong. Ienzo tucked his legs around Demyx’s hips and immediately felt the reaction; it thrilled him and put him somewhere beyond fear. Ienzo slipped his hands under his shirt, up along his sides, catching the edges of scars as he slipped off Demyx’s shirt, only to have his own removed. 

For several moments Ienzo rested against him, revelling in the sensation of skin against skin, tracing the many scars that had been inflicted on Demyx. He longed to kiss them, to know if it felt half as good as when Demyx kissed his own scars. Nervousness paralyzed his previous bravado.  “I don’t know how to do this,” he said.

Demyx considered this. His eyes seemed a little watery, and he took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I mean. Are you sure you want to try something? We just talked about this two days ago.”

“Yes. Are you?”

He thought about this and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I kind of am.”

Ienzo laughed. He felt a weird and heady combination of happiness and nerves. 

He touched Ienzo’s cheek. When he spoke, his voice was high and a little strained. “I think… maybe it would be easier if we switched spots? Just because you’re starting from scratch, here.”

“What, are you an expert? You know I learn fast.”

Demyx kissed him. For several moments they were lost in that, and he came to his senses somewhat. “You’re right though. For now.” It was a little awkward, and not very spontaneous, to shift places. He was struck with the cold consciousness of what he was doing. It seemed simultaneously familiar and yet not, like half-remembered fragments of a dream. 

He was looking at Ienzo with such softness. “You can  relax, okay?” he said. “Do whatever feels natural to you.”

Ienzo helped him take off his thin cotton pants and then reached for Demyx’s underwear.

“Don’t worry about me,” Demyx said quickly.

“I want to.” Such a short word, but such a potent one. 

Between the gray morning and the tangle of blankets it was hard to see his body. To be naked in front of someone else was odd, and for a moment he felt exposed. Demyx kissed him. Ienzo felt the slight scratch of his calluses as he touched him, exploring him slowly. Everything was so intense that Ienzo could barely reciprocate, clinging weakly. 

Demyx’s hand slid between his legs. Ienzo gasped. This was so much more than he ever thought it would be, and he could not think. 

Almost tentatively, Demyx stroked him a few times. “Is that good?”

Ienzo kissed him. His body was not such a terrible thing to carry around after all. There was something small and tight in the pit of his stomach, urgent and eager, and Ienzo pressed harder against him. Thinking was difficult, muddy, and the silence of the noise and anxiety was almost more pleasurable than the actual act. Demyx kept touching him, a little less gently. The tension within him tightened until it was almost unbearable, and he couldn’t really understand it. “I feel--” What did he feel?

“Are you going to come? It’s okay. Let it happen.”

Was that what this was? The heady ache of tension dissolved and a sweet shock of endorphins flooded him. With it, rational thought came back, though woozily, with an unknown sort of clarity. 

“Are you okay?” Demyx asked.

He nodded. He was still trying to put together what exactly had happened, but for once being in pieces was not so scary. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“Just relax.”

He did so, found it fairly easy. Demyx settled next to him on the bed, observing him closely. When had he become so considerate? What had happened to crass, uncaring days? Ienzo took his hand and held it. Demyx pulled the sheet more tightly over himself and Ienzo could just barely see the outline of his--

“You’re still--” he began.

“I’ll live,” Demyx said quickly.

“It doesn’t seem fair.”  He lay on his side. “If you want some privacy, I can step out.”

“Really, Ienzo. I’ll be okay.”

“...Okay.”

Demyx lay down next to him, as much as the small bed would allow. 

Things were becoming still clearer. It seemed only right to him that this was the first new thing he'd experienced while human. He couldn't imagine what it might have been like otherwise; the intersection between the physical and emotional was too strong. “...So this is what people are always obsessing about,” he said. “I finally have some insight.”

“Well--I mean, there are other things people do.”

“No. When people write of longing, is  _ this _ what people are seeking?”

“You’re a scientist. You can say it. “Orgasm.” You came on my thigh.”

Ienzo wrinkled his nose. “I suppose I did.” To realize it was odd. Now that the endorphins were starting to fade, he began to notice the slight stickiness between his legs, the sweat. 

“Did it not live up to your expectations?” Demyx teased. Still, there was a glint in his eye that suggested he wasn’t joking. 

“I didn’t have any expectations,” he admitted. “Only what I’ve heard.”

Demyx was so shocked he nearly sat up. “You mean you never-- _ ever _ \--” 

Ienzo shrugged. “My life has been peculiar.”

“I can’t believe this. You’ve  _ never _ masturbated? You’ve never come  _ in your sleep _ ?”

“Believe it or not. These are simply feelings I’ve never had to act on. Consciously or not. Chalk it up to an emotionless puberty.”

“Holy shit. I don’t know if I should feel honored, or if I’ve completely corrupted you.” 

Ienzo laughed. “I don’t feel corrupted. And I should know. No. I feel… clean, if that makes sense. Despite the evidence otherwise.” Perhaps soon he would be dying to take a bath, but for now this was comfortable. “And yet. If you’d have told me last year that  _ this _ would have happened, I’d have gone positively feral,” Ienzo said. “This life is so strange.”

“The strangest,” Demyx agreed. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelation of Demyx and Ienzo's relationship makes for an awkward dinner. New information puts Ienzo's plan to help Sora in jeopardy.

XI.

It seemed to grow piercingly cold all at once. The next day they ended up having to go to the market for warmer clothing. Four days had passed, between sleep and trauma. Ienzo found himself dreading to return to the research, which was unusual. He wanted to help Sora, desperately, but at the same time, he’d been experiencing so much--good and bad--lately that he wasn’t sure he could have a clear head.

He would just have to try his best, and, if need be, ask for help. He’d finally started to make some progress, after all. 

The day passed quickly and relatively peacefully. Ienzo did feel a lot better, no longer plagued by the headaches and dizziness that had no doubt been a result of sleep deprivation. His anxiety, too, was much more manageable, though he guessed this might be because he was spending so much time with Demyx. 

Ienzo was in love.

As a teenage Nobody, he’d read some romance novels, mostly to try and gain some insight as to what this all meant in the world, especially for the Somebodies he’d been put in charge of observing or manipulating. He’d always found such descriptions of love melodramatic and overblown, lacking grounding in reality. Of course, the fact that most of these novels were written for heterosexual couples might change things too. 

He felt the precise opposite of that dissociative, codependent infatuation. He’d hardly ever felt more awake, and more himself. Maybe that was why he was so afraid to leave the safety of this week. This stability and peace was so very tenuous. 

Demyx helped him make dinner. He tried to take the instructions Ienzo gave him, he really did, but his knife cuts were not very clean or uniform. Ienzo couldn’t help but wonder how Demyx had been raised. With some things he was so practical and capable, but yet he couldn’t dice onions. 

“Why’d you learn to cook?” Demyx asked him. 

Ienzo checked the recipe. They were making a sort of bouillabaisse. He measured out a few different spices. “Perhaps you’ve noticed, but we apprentices tend to view our bodies more as vessels for the mind more than anything else. The meals I were raised on were nutritious, but bland. It frustrated me when I was younger, so I did research.” He shrugged. “It’s something I enjoy doing. Objective. Harmless.” It was the closest to artistry he could get.

Demyx pointed to the still-fading scar on his hand.

“ _ Largely _ harmless,” he corrected. “More so than my other research. Are those carrots ready?” That brought him, inevitably, to spiraling about Sora. He had to be careful. But wasn’t time of the essence? The more time Ienzo spent away from his work, the farther Sora was drifting from all of them. Ienzo reached over and corrected Demyx’s cuts before mixing them into the pot.

“Are you beating yourself up again?” Demyx asked. “We’ve talked about this.”

“You always ask questions about me. That doesn’t seem fair. Tell me more about you.”

He started slicing down the potatoes in front of him. “There’s not a whole lot to know,” he said. “You know about as much about me as I do.”

“...So you haven’t remembered anything else?” Demyx’s heart should be complete by now. This amnesia was concerning. Was it all trauma and repression? Or had Xehanort’s heart done more damage to him than they’d originally thought? But then Even’s memories should be scattered too, and by all accounts they weren’t. Worry tightened in his throat. 

He sighed. “There is one thing,” he said. “Um, it’s kind of a doozy though.”

Ienzo looked up. Really it had only been a month or so since Demyx’s return. Did he just need time? “Pray tell.”

Demyx set down the knife.  “Well. Don’t freak out. But--”

Ansem’s voice broke the moment. “Oh, boys, that smells absolutely incredible.”

“Ienzo did all the work,” Demyx said without making eye contact. “I’m just moral support.”

“That’s not true. He’s trying,” Ienzo said. “It’ll be ready in about an hour. I hope you’ll be joining us?” 

“I shall.” He paused slightly. “You look much improved. Perhaps I shall take a page out of Demyx’s book.” 

“I am… feeling rather better.” This was the first time Ienzo had spoken to Ansem since he’d found out about the relationship. He couldn’t pretend it wasn’t awkward. It had been all too easy to avoid him, lest he feel the need to give his two cents, or worse, try to feign parenting. When it came to something this personal, he did not need unsolicited advice. 

“And you were both able to find good things for winter?”

“Yeah. Thanks again,” Demyx said.

Ansem smiled. “Like I said, I wish for you to be comfortable here. Winters in Radiant Garden can be… bracing, if one is not used to it. I can feel it even now. Perhaps, Demyx, if you wouldn’t mind, you can help Aeleus light the boilers sometime in the next coming days?”

Demyx blinked. “I don’t know why I’d be the right one for the job.”

“He needs assistance. I’m afraid with all of us tied up in our work, and Dilan still acting as guard, we’re one pair of hands short.”

“I’m happy to help,” Demyx mumbled. He turned back to his potatoes. 

Awkwardness aside, Ienzo wanted to ask about the state of the research. No doubt Ansem had been investigating as well. It took a great deal of restraint not to ask. The model's face, so alive, so like the real thing, flashed behind his eyes. He felt recovered, but that didn’t mean he was. Still, his hands trembled.

“I shall see you in an hour,” Ansem said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Ienzo said. He added some thyme to the soup. “Well. What is it you wanted to tell me?” 

“...Nothing. It can wait.” He smiled.

“So you’re happy to help,” Ienzo said. Flirting was new to him, but he liked it. A new and unexplored use of wit. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to talk up Master Ansem, or if I’ve been a good influence on you.”

He seemed to hesitate, but really only for a fraction of a second. “Neither. It really is cold as fuck in here!” 

“I’m afraid even with the heating it doesn’t get much better. This place is very old, poorly insulated. You’d better brace yourself. Though admittedly… it occurs to to me there is one way to keep warm.” Before he could lose his nerve, Ienzo kissed him. Part of him wondered, briefly, if he was only doing this to distract himself; warmth and want chased off the anxiety. Humanity was so manipulable. He'd always wondered why. 

“Ienzo!” Demyx gasped in surprise.

He felt his face warm. “When this week ends, we won’t have that much time together,” Ienzo said. 

He brushed a finger against Ienzo's lip.  “I’m  _ not _ going to let you overwork yourself like that again. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Is that a promise?”

Demyx kissed him back equally as deeply, pulling his fingers through his hair and trailing down to his throat. The only thing that interrupted them was the loud sloshing as the pot boiled over. Ienzo swore and dropped the burner’s heat to “low.” “Later?” Demyx asked.

Another surge of anticipation, stronger this time. “Later.”

After all that, dinner was a bit of a fiasco. The food came out alright, despite the cream overheating. The apprentices’ old hierarchy was still very much in place; thinking nothing of it, Demyx had sat next to Ienzo, not realizing it was Even’s place. Nobody really outwardly commented, though Dilan did smirk. He’d always been a glutton for drama. Seeing them all here, gathered together, Ienzo felt something akin to embarrassment. The truth of their relationship had already been revealed, but to have it acknowledged added a strange layer of tension to the air. This sort of thing had never happened before. 

“I see you’re feeling well, Ienzo,” Even said sweetly. “What is it you’ve both done to keep yourselves busy?”

The impudence of this made the blood rise in his face, but Ienzo replied pleasantly, paring the truth down to something palatable and non-incriminating. 

“I am sure we’re all glad to see you back in good health,” Even said to him. “I just hope that this new development does not cloud your judgement going forward. To be young and… caught up in such matters, can no doubt impede your critical thinking. However natural it is.”

Demyx’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

Ienzo set down the cup of tea he was drinking. “Clearly you have thought on the subject, and I appreciate your concern. But I feel as though I am just as able to take on my research as I ever were. Not that I have asked for your advice. Should you have more to say on the matter, please let us discuss it in private.”

Even turned faintly pink.

“You needn’t worry about me anymore,” Ienzo said, a bit more gently. “I… I’m not the little boy I was.” 

Even shook his head. “I will always worry about you,” he said. “After all, I’ve so much time to make up for.”

After a rather pregnant silence, Demyx cleared his throat. “Anyone want seconds?”

They both did the dishes. Ienzo was extra cautious to make sure that no knives were lying around. They returned to his room, though the mood from before had been spoiled. Demyx sat on the bed.  Ienzo turned towards the window, looking out at the town wreathed in fading light. “I must apologize for Even. It was incredibly rude for him to be so suggestive.”

Demyx joined him. “Why? Everyone knows.” 

“They used to be… quite protective of me,” he said, with a shake of his head. 

“I think it’s nice they care so much about you.”

“They don’t… dislike you,” he said. He flinched at the double negative.

“They think I'm not good enough for you. And they're right."

Ienzo took his hand and sat down next to him. “I don’t think you understand the impact you’ve had on me,” he said quietly. “If it were not for you, I’d still be there, miserable and working myself to death, unable to find any value in myself aside from needing to atone. I… I know the mistakes I made cannot be undone, but I… I’m better. Destroying myself isn’t going to fix what I did. You’ve… brought me back to reality. And if they don’t realize that, then they’re worse off. I wish they could see what I see in you. Your kindness, your patience, your emotional intelligence.”

Demyx shook his head. 

“Healing is a slow, tedious, constant process. You can’t allow yourself to get caught up in moments like these. They don’t matter.” He touched Demyx’s face. “You do.  _ We _ do.”

Demyx blushed. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic,” he said. 

“I… still have a few things to learn.” He kissed him gently. 

Intimacy was still new and shocking to him, though at least he had somewhat of an idea of what to expect. Ienzo didn’t want to be so passive this time. He pulled his legs around Demyx’s waist and kissed him along the throat, along the soft spot that always made he himself feel weak. Demyx responded by pulling him down on top of him.

"I admit," Ienzo whispered. "All of this is... very new to me still. But I think I'm starting to understand." 

Ienzo wondered if he should tell him, if he should say it out loud. But he had to know already. Everything he’d just said meant ten times more. He felt Demyx reach for the buttons of his pants and figured maybe now was not the time for talking. Clothing having been dealt with, Ienzo touched him, rivers of veins and muscle and bone, and scars. He kissed them and found that he’d been right about it also being pleasurable for Demyx, if the reaction he felt meant anything. He could feel it too, heavy and delicious and impermanent. To a degree, what Even said about this muddying thought was completely accurate. But was it such a sin to try and stop thinking for a few moments? The hand he'd been propping himself up with tightened against the sheets. "I want to..." Ienzo's voice sounded strange, a little like someone else's. "I want to do this for you. I--" His experience with such frustration was minimal, but he couldn't imagine it was easy.

He bit his lip a little and brushed Ienzo's hair out of his eyes. "If you're not ready--"

His face burned feverishly. He could only imagine how ridiculous he must look. "I  _am_  ready. And I want to. I just... I'm not, technically speaking, sure how?" He should probably try it on himself one of these days, if only to know the difference in sensation, but the thought was so jarring he pushed it away. 

Demyx laughed a little. 

"Do you remember what I did to you?"

He nodded. The memory of it almost made him gasp out loud. 

"Something like that."

He smiled shakily. "This isn't really something you read about in books."

"I guess it wouldn't be."

This shouldn't be difficult. He wanted to do it, to make him feel good as well. Yet finding the nerve took some time. Ienzo kissed him. He tried to will the trembling in his hands to stop. His hand brushed against Demyx's waist and hip and thigh. The scarred skin was warm. Demyx kissed him harder, his hand tangling in Ienzo's hair. This distraction was enough for him to touch his (what was it called in such moments? Wasn't "penis" too medical?) dick. The skin there was softer than he though, more natural. At least it was  _somewhat_ familiar in terms of structure. He stroked it gently and heard a small sound catch in Demyx's throat.

Ienzo pulled away from the kiss. "Was that alright?"

He nodded, unable to catch his breath. "Just a little bit more towards the--"

He tried to oblige. There was a sort of pleasure in doing this. He felt Demyx start to touch him too and tried to copy that. The awkward self-consciousness began to fade, replaced with the same lovely thoughtlessness as before. It was amazing that the body was capable of such pure joy. Little waves of it broke over him, heightening the tension within. He wove the trust and love into his touch and felt the same in return. The vulnerability did not feel so much like a weakness as a strength. It was okay. The rising, tightening feeling in him was recognizable now. He tried briefly to hold it back, but the need for release was just too tempting. He heard Demyx gasp as he came against him.

 

“I see,” Ienzo said softly, pressing a kiss into his sweaty brow. “It really is simpler than I thought.” The stress had been for naught. 

Demyx lay back. “I swear this is not indicative of how long I usually last.”

Ienzo laughed. He shifted off of him, onto his side. “So do you feel better?”

“ _ So _ much better.”

He did too. The utter lack of anxiety was intoxicating. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He leaned against him. “You’ve been so patient with me.”

“It wasn’t all for you. Everything feels so different than it normally does. Plus I… I’m not used to the emotional part of it.”

“The sense of connection is… certainly unique. If I’ve learned anything, emotions are always capable of becoming more overwhelming. No matter their strength.” 

Demyx hummed in response. For few minutes, or however long they remained knotted up together, he felt perfectly at peace. If there was anything to worry about, there was a  _ later _ in which to do it. 

And then the gummiphone started ringing. He sat up.

“What the hell is that?” Demyx asked. 

“My gummiphone. Though I have no idea who would be calling.” He got up and pulled on a robe, then reached into his lab coat pocket for the phone. “I’m sorry. I have to see who it is. Hello?” 

“Ienzo? Are you busy?” Roxas’s voice, garbled.

“No, I’m not. What is it?”

It was hard to tell exactly what he was saying. Something about “worldlines.” Anxiety, or panic, made Roxas speak quickly. 

“Slow down. The signal is not very good.”

“Are there universes other than this one? Like parallel universes? Xehanort mentioned something about worldlines but when I tried to ask Ansem about it he didn’t answer.”

That was so like Ansem. He probably hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “Well I do suppose it’s possible but I’ve had no insight this past week as to what he’s been up to, I fell ill and was resting--” He only knew about the Worldlines Theory vaporously--because it was just that,  _theory_. 

“Are you sick?”

“No, I’m alright now. And yourself? You sound distressed.”

“I mean I think I am? And then Riku went over to Yen Sid to ask more about it, and well, he said it’s possible, especially with the power of waking. They said Sora broke the rules of the power and walked between worlds. So they think that, if he’s done that, he’s in another worldline. Ienzo, do you know anything?”

Yes. Yes, it was all making sense. How had he not even taking the power of waking into account? He’d assumed it had all to do with hearts. He’d been wrong. “I understand,” he said woodenly. “I’m afraid if that’s the situation then… I’ll try my best, but you must realize the prognosis is not good.” 

“Can you check in your research? See if anyone knows anything?”

“Yes, I’ll let you know. Try and take care.” He hung up. His mind was spinning but no good thoughts came from it. He sat down on the bed.

“What happened?” Demyx asked. “Who was that?”

“It was Roxas. They think Riku’s got a lock on Sora’s location.”

“But isn’t that… good? Then why are you both upset?”

Ienzo was wringing his hands. “Because he’s not in this reality. We’ve no way to get him back. Wherever he is… he’s there, alone. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo's desperation to help Sora takes a dark turn.

XII.

Clarity and panic mixed together in a toxic slurry, undermining his previous sense of stability. “It’s more or less hopeless,” Ienzo said. “Gummi ships can travel between worlds. Dark corridors can travel between types of matter. We’ve even learned so much about time travel. But no amount of science or bonds between hearts can shatter the border of reality. To even attempt to do so would threaten to pervert all of this World again for one life. I cannot do that. I  _ won’t _ do that. But it feels like I’m killing him, Demyx.” He looked at his trembling hands. “It feels like it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure if Sora knew he’d tell you it isn’t. Isn’t that his whole thing? Saving the world? He’d understand.” His expression was gentle, but fearful. 

Ienzo couldn’t breathe. He’d never felt so helpless, so like he was trapped.

That wasn’t true.

Getting turned into a Nobody. Getting strangled by the replica. And now. As hard as he tried to help, things only seemed to ever get worse. Ienzo couldn’t possibly try to save Sora, not when there was so much else at stake. But yet…

Demyx drew him into his arms and held him for a long time. Panic broke over Ienzo in uneven waves. His mind spiraled in circles. There had to be something he could do, anything, but nothing he came up with had any substance.

The itch to go look through his research was the only thing holding him back from a complete break. So many people in his life were just gone, or forever altered. He could not let this go. Which was why, when Demyx began to nod off, Ienzo didn’t wake him. He let him sleep deeply and stood up.

“What?” Demyx asked sleepily. “Where you going?”

“...The washroom. Go back to sleep.” He kissed him gently. 

Ienzo got dressed, cleaned himself up, and went down to the lab.

He dug through the research with a agitated fervor. He had hardly ever felt so desperate when performing research, or so helpless. There had to be something in Ansem’s files about the worldlines, anything, anything that could help him do this with a clear conscience--

“...So you had to go to the bathroom,” Demyx said tiredly.

Ienzo jumped, but then he sighed resignedly. “You wouldn’t have let me go.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t’ve.”

“I’ve… nothing to say in my own defense.”

“What happened to “I cannot, I won’t”?” His arms were crossed tightly, the knuckles white.

“I was hoping there was some way compatible with this world--” He trailed off. 

“And that sort of thinking becomes “well there isn’t,  _ but. _ ””

“What would you know about such things?” Ienzo asked sourly. Demyx had never had to make such choices. 

A pink flush stained his cheeks. “Um, because I’m not an idiot? Because I’ve heard all those stories about the apprentices and their ambition?”

“ _ My _ ambition.  _ I’m _ an apprentice.”

“Yeah, and I’ve also seen you completely lose your mind with guilt because of well-intentioned research gone wrong!”

“Would you feel this passionately if it were not Sora?” Ienzo asked softly. He heard Zexion creep into his voice. “If it were say, someone else entirely that needed saving?”

His face contorted.  _ “Excuse me? _ ”

Ienzo could not stop it. The bitterness was easier to deal with than the helplessness. “You’ve never hesitated to make your ambivalence for him known.”

“Uh, yeah, because he  _ murdered  _ me. Something I still have nightmares about, by the way.” He shook his head. “I don’t want this to destroy you again. Ienzo, please. If not for you, then… for me.” He reached out, almost as if to take Ienzo's hand, but didn't touch him.

The dichotomy of his two selves crashed, and he could not fight it. He wanted to go back. Needed to. How could he? How could he just  _ let _ suffering happen when he already had before? Ienzo could not look at him. He didn’t deserve Demyx. He was too good for Ienzo. Why couldn't Demyx see he was a lost cause?

“Alright. Fine. I see how it is.” The anger, thin and quiet, did not quite mask the pain in his eyes. 

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I guess I don’t. What _ ever _ , Ienzo.” 

Ienzo could not even watch him walk away. For several moments he read, but he couldn’t take in any of the words. He sat on the cold floor and curled up. 

Demyx was right; this would destroy him. It was  _ already _ eating away at him, bringing out that sour, all-too-explored part of himself. It was so easy to justify violating nature when lives were at stake. From a purely scientific standpoint, his own mental state had become a conflict of interest. 

Ienzo took out the gummiphone, and dialed. Ansem picked up after two rings. 

“Ienzo? Is everything alright?”

“No.” He couldn’t mask his voice if he tried. He explained the situation, every last bit of it, all the way down to the fight. “Master, I can’t do this.”

A pause. “No, Ienzo. You cannot.”

“I can no longer tell if I’m saving him or hurting him intervening this way. I would be messing even more with this world.”

 

“This is not your responsibility,” Ansem said. “And it’s not about a conflict of interest.”

“But isn’t it my fault if I can do something, and I choose not to? Aren’t I placing my life over his?”

“That’s what it means to be a researcher,” Ansem said. “Your life is full of hard choices, and we’re hardly ever qualified to make them. But, believe it or not, your self-awareness is your saving grace. Sora knows what he’s doing. All you’ve got to do is trust him. That boy will find his own way back. I’m sure of it.”

He dried his eyes.

“I think perhaps you should apologize,” Ansem said softly. “As soon as you’re calm enough. It would not do to throw away a love like that. You're growing, Ienzo. And I do believe he's what's broken Xehanort's posthumous control over you."

“Yes,” he said.

“And if it soothes your conscience, I will see what I can do. You have to trust in the ways of fate.”

“I’ll try,” he said, and hung up.

Ienzo stood. His body seemed to weigh twice as much, and his self-esteem was truly gutted. He hoped he could find Demyx quickly, and more than that, that Ienzo was worth forgiveness. He walked from the lab, holding onto the gummiphone like a lifeline. The blasted thing started to ring for the second time that day, and Ienzo regretted ever getting one. It was just the Restoration Committee. He let it ring. He’d deal with it later.

And then they called again. And again. Before he could pick up the phone, he saw Even, his green eyes on fire. “There you are. Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“Did you call me?”

“Perhaps you do not remember, but your phone is set up to forward calls to mine if marked urgent.”

That had been a precaution; there hadn’t been an actual emergency. Hadn’t there? “Whatever is the matter?” Ienzo asked cautiously.

Even hesitated. It was the slight pause that reignited Ienzo’s anxiety. “It’s Demyx.”

“What about him?” Scenarios flitted through his mind, each worse than the last. Had he left this world somehow? Fallen back in with the darkness?

“He’s been injured. Mortally.” 

He felt like he was being choked again. 

“Yuffie was on patrol in the area and found him after he’d been attacked by Heartless. He’s in Aerith’s care now, but admittedly, the situation looks grim.” He shook his head. “I wanted nothing more than to go down there and see it myself, but really, what could I do?”

“So you mean he’s--” Ienzo could not say the word.

“We don’t know yet. What do you know of this woman’s abilities?”

Ienzo shook his head. He’d gone silent.

“You poor boy,” Even said. He hugged Ienzo. The touch was strange, but not awful, in the moment. Even was bony and smelled like bleach. “I worry, too. I know how much he means to you.”

Of course this would happen, after Ienzo had said such awful things to him.

“Come,” Even said. “You mustn’t wait through this alone.”

* * *

 

Hours passed. Ienzo’s stomach and chest were in painful knots, and he could barely breathe. He felt as though he were slightly outside of himself. Guilt gnawed at him, nearly made him sick. He lay curled on the small sofa in Even’s quarters, which were relatively stark and barren compared to his lab. His cheek rested against the faded green cloth. Even took a blanket and draped it over him. 

“Have you any news?” Ansem asked. He sounded out of breath. “I heard a few moments ago. I was away from the phone."

“Oh good, you’re here,” Even said. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Whatever would we do.”

“What happened?”

“The usual. Heartless. Only he had no means to defend himself. He did not fall to darkness, but was wounded critically. That’s all we know.”

“The irony of it,” Ansem said bitterly. “To survive all that, and to get wounded by shadows.”

“So things go,” Even mumbled.

Ansem crouched in front of Ienzo. Patted his knee. Ienzo flinched. “Have hope,” was all he said. “I’ll get you two some tea.”

At his back, Even all but snarled, “The man can take better care of a houseplant than a child.”

Ienzo raised an eyebrow. Even, remembering well how to read Ienzo’s expressions during such such silences, responded appropriately.

“Oh, come off it. I’ve earned a few good digs at  _ Master. _ He still does not understand people. As hard as he tries. It’s a miracle you came out as civilized as you did.” He sniffed. “Perhaps there is yet some bitterness in my new heart.” 

The phone rang. Ienzo’s heart seemed to stop. Even answered.

“Yes?”

A long, agonizing pause. Even’s face was hard to read. 

“Quite. Quite. I see. At least there’s that.”

Ienzo stiffened, bracing himself for bad news. 

“Thank you. You’re a kind girl.” Even hung up. “He’s stable. She and that wizard friend of hers are going to bring him here.”

Ienzo did not quite feel relief. “Stable” meant a lot of things, and not necessarily all of them were good.

“If Demyx is anything, he’s resilient,” Even said. “I have a feeling he’ll be around to annoy us for a long time yet.”

* * *

 

Demyx didn’t look good.

Now that they had him back at the castle, Even did his own exam. Aside from a red mark that would surely become a nasty scar, the wound was gone. Aerith had replaced most of the blood he’d lost, and his skin was sallow. 

“So long as you don’t wake him, he’ll recover,” Aerith said. She looked exhausted. “When you take a person back from the brink of death, you have to let them sleep. But he should be okay. He’s got a will to live like I’ve never seen. Broke through several layers of sedation like it was nothing.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Even said. “Poor Ienzo has been having conniptions.”

“Are you two close?” Aerith asked.

“We’re…” His voice was scratchy from hours of disuse. “We’re partners.” The wording of it was awkward to him. “Lovers” was much too intimate for public, “boyfriends” far too juvenile. 

She nodded. “I’m sure this has been a harrowing experience. But we caught it in time. It’s lucky the Heartless didn’t want his heart.”

“...Lucky,” he said. 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” Even said.

“Of course. I’m happy to help. Things have been so peaceful that this is the first major injury case I’ve seen in several weeks.” She sighed. “These things come and go in waves. Hopefully they don’t get much worse. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him. Call me if you need to.”

“I shall. There was one thing left I wanted to discuss--” Even and Aerith left, leaving Ienzo alone with him. It had grown dark. Ienzo took the plant from its place on the dresser and put it on the windowsill. At least he’d have something pretty near him. He took Demyx’s hand. 

More time passed. Nothing changed. He waited. Ienzo was no longer so good at being patient. Really if Demyx was just sleeping he didn’t need to remain nearby, but he didn’t move. He found himself nodding off slightly in the chair next to the bed. He hadn’t slept in two days, and the exhaustion was almost too potent to exist. Every time he felt himself drift he shook himself awake. 

During one of these sleepy waves, he felt a hand squeeze his.

“Demyx? Demyx, oh thank goodness.” Was it normal for him to wake up so quickly? Shouldn’t Ienzo feel worried?

His eyes fluttered and he blinked hard. “Ienzo?”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said. “All those awful things I said… I’m so sorry.” His eyes were watering with tired, guilty tears. 

“...What…” His eyes rolled a bit, likely from whatever medication he’d been given.

“You’re lucky. Yuffie was on patrol in the area and found you. Aerith saved your life. That wound would’ve killed you. It nearly  _ did _ kill you.” He held Demyx’s hand to his face. “I am so… foolish.”

“No.” He shook his head slowly, druggedly. 

“Even weak and drugged you’re trying to comfort me. I truly… do not deserve you.” Ienzo kissed his hand. “Get some rest.”

He nodded and let his eyes fall shut. 

Ienzo walked back towards his own bedroom and for a while drifted somewhere near, but not quite, sleep. All his days lately had been so long, so strung through with intense emotion. Would things ever stabilize? He wondered. Or would it always be so up and down? 

He did sleep, though fitfully. When he woke he went to check on Demyx, only to see him talking to Aerith through the crack in the door. She smiled and left, only to jump slightly when she saw Ienzo.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said. “I was merely checking in.”

“He’s all right,” she said. “Healed very quickly, even as these things go. I’m guessing he wasn’t ready to leave you.”

Ienzo bit his lip. “We’ve only just gotten our humanity back. It would be a shame to lose it so soon.”

“I agree,” she said. “I hope both of you take it easy. Maybe we’ll see you soon.”

“Maybe,” he said. Now that Demyx was conscious, and off the painkillers, Ienzo was feeling nervous. He’d made a mistake, and a big one. He made himself smile and pushed open the door. “Aerith said you’ve healed beautifully,” he said in an artificially bright voice. “Now it’s your turn to take some time to recover.” He sat down in the chair next to the bed. “I’ve been so worried. We all have. I’m truly sorry.”

Demyx was still looking pale, but otherwise healthy. His green eyes were sad. “You hurt me,” he said.  "You made me feel like all of this meant nothing to you."

Ienzo sat down next to him. “...I know. I came to my senses not minutes after you left. But by then… you’d already been injured.” He sighed. “More than anything this situation made me realize that I must acknowledge when things are out of my hands. Pushing myself to fix the impossible is not only dangerous for me, but for those I love. I assure you, Demyx, I did not mean to make you feel that way. I really know so little when it comes to dealing with these complex, mature emotions.” So mature, and yet so incapable.

Demyx inhaled sharply, a wheezy sound. “You love me?”

How did he not know? “Of course I do. I… I thought you were aware of that.”

Demyx shook his head. “I love you too.” Demyx touched his chest, looking startled. His face contorted in pain.

Ienzo grabbed his shoulders. Fear washed over him. “Demyx? What is it?”

He made a choked noise and fell forward into Ienzo’s arms. Ienzo could barely contain the panic. Was something wrong with the wound? What could it be? But just as suddenly, Demyx seemed to recover. He held a hand to his heart.

“I think…” He smiled. “I think I’m whole.”

Ienzo’s eyebrows shot up, and then he put a hand to his face. Relief blotted out the worst of the anxiety. “How silly of me not to realize. To see and be seen, or love and be loved… You must have needed to hear it out loud for your heart to be fully complete.”

Demyx hugged him. 

Ienzo laughed. “Welcome to the human race.”


	13. Chapter 13

XIII. 

Several days passed. Ienzo remained near Demyx. The air felt as though it had been cleared, though guilt lingered. He’d been forgiven--again--for another silly mistake. He needed to do better, be better, especially as their relationship only deepened. There was no going back at this point. He couldn’t imagine it.

Winter came. The cold was bracing, more intense than he remembered, and even in layers of sweaters Ienzo shivered. To try and stay warm, they took walks. Talked about silly and ultimately meaningless things. Demyx was recovering beautifully, but something felt slightly… off, something that Ienzo could not quite verbalize. There was a simultaneous emptiness and fullness to his gaze. Now that he was completely human, was he regaining his memories? But wouldn’t he have felt that prudent to mention to Ienzo? He didn’t seem quite depressed, or at least wasn’t exhibiting any of the textbook signs. In fact, he seemed more cheerful than normal, smiling often, cracking wry jokes that lacked humor. Was it a ruse masking deeper pain? At what point should Ienzo try and intervene?

The potency of their acknowledged feelings had changed things. He tried to mentally prepare himself for newer milestones in their relationship, physical or emotional. He was becoming used to the sense of anticipation mixed with nerves; it was more bearable than the rest of his anxiety. One of these wintery days, Ienzo went on an errand, alone, with the guise of purchasing medical supplies for Even. The shopkeeper did not blink when he asked for the lubricant. Ienzo hid it in the bag of bandages and bottles. Returning home, he buried it in his bedside drawer and decided not to think about it until absolutely necessary. Better to be overprepared than not. 

One afternoon, it started to snow as they relaxed in the library. It had been ages since Ienzo had seen real snow. He listened to the luscious silence of it, becoming aware of time passing. This was home, and there was no leaving it. To know that he’d plant his roots here was simultaneously soothing and wrenching. He’d never had that before, through childhood and adolescence. Rediscovering these concepts of home and family ached a little, but it was a good pain. A growing pain.

“I haven’t seen snow here in years,” Ienzo said. 

“It’s pretty,” Demyx said. 

“...Pretty,” Ienzo echoed. His eyes caught the curve of Demyx’s jaw. 

“Do you want to go outside?”

“I think I rather would.”

Bundled in layers, they stood outside the castle gates. Already the snow was falling thickly, blanketing everything in a silent wall of white. He wanted to lay down in the snow and watch it all fall. To let it cover him. That might be soothing. 

Cold wetness hit him in the face. He wiped it off and turned, only to see Demyx with another snowball in hand. “You do realize this means war, right?”

He couldn’t ever remember playing like this. Maybe when he was very young. Aeleus and Dilan had taken him out in the snow a few times, but he’d caught the flu and Ansem discouraged it afterwards. He found himself enjoying it immensely and was proud when he got more hits on Demyx than he did on Ienzo. In the middle of this playfight, Aeleus had come out to start shoveling, and he watched them with a small smile. 

“For a scrawny scientist, you have a good arm,” Demyx muttered. His next shot went wide and hit Aeleus square in the back of the neck. 

“Run!” Ienzo screamed. Aeleus’s large hands were perfect for hitting them both with snowballs at the same time. 

“If we team up we can take him,” Demyx insisted.

“Believe me, we can’t,” Ienzo said. “He is absolutely ruthless.”

Now that he was no longer a child, Aeleus did not hold back, and pelted them until they were both soaked. “We surrender!” Demyx cried. Aeleus nodded, and then went back to spreading salt like nothing had happened. “Ugh, I’m soaked.”

“I’m freezing,” Ienzo said. “Let’s call it a draw.”

Armed with dry clothes and tea, they sat in front of the fireplace and tried to get warm. Demyx’s arm was around him and Ienzo allowed himself to relax fully against him. This was what humanity was supposed to feel like, comforting and pleasant and natural. But Demyx didn’t relax back.

“Are you still cold?” Ienzo asked. “You’re tense.”

“I have to tell you something,” he said. “But I’m not… I’m not ready. I keep trying and trying.”

“Is it something about your past?” Ienzo asked.

Demyx nodded. 

He considered this. “Is it something bad you’ve done?”

He hesitated, and shook his head.

Ienzo thought about what it would feel like to verbalize his own experiences. It would be difficult, almost impossible, to even scratch the surface. “Take your time,” Ienzo said. “Whatever it is can wait until you’re ready.”

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” Were they in a rush? Anyway, he wasn’t necessarily entitled to know  _ everything _ about him. As long as there were no major, threatening lies, what did it matter? The past could reveal itself at a natural pace.

“...Thank you.” 

Ienzo kissed him. This had been a good day, a normal day. He could feel something like happiness. He let himself be kissed, let the ever-present guilt melt away into a background hum. He felt as though he were coming undone. He pulled away gently and touched Demyx’s cheek. “I  _ do _ love you. I realize I didn’t quite say it.” 

He blushed. “You said it enough.”

He could feel his own face burning. “I know that. I wanted to... to say it again. Perhaps if I'm articulate about my feelings I can understand them."

“Is it helping?” Demyx asked.

He softened a little. He realized that emotion and reason did not quite exist on a spectrum; trying to see them as such was harmful, even reductive. “Not quite. Not even close.”

Demyx kissed him first this time, quite tenderly. It was getting easier for Ienzo to open up like this, to let vulnerability bleed off of him. He brought his hands up through Demyx’s hair. He heard Demyx whisper that he loved him and Ienzo brought him still closer. Longing flooded him. He draped a leg around Demyx’s waist, wanting an unfamiliar sort of closeness. 

This thought broke his concentration somewhat, and he pulled away, breathless. “I…” 

“What?” he asked.

How did he say it? Did it need to be said? Surely he had to at the very least  _ ask _ . “I want…” The words died in his throat. He tried again. “I feel like I…”

Demyx also looked away. "...Do you want to go back to your room?" he offered.

“Yes.”

The hallways were empty. Ienzo found himself grateful that there was nobody else around. He was almost a little too aware of what he was doing, what he was about to do. This shouldn’t feel awkward. But yet it did. They shut the door behind them. Ienzo took his hand and led him over to the bed, but remained standing there, shaking a little.

"Are you okay?" Demyx asked.

"I feel... shy," he whispered. "Isn't that strange?"

"I do too." He wrapped his arms around Ienzo and pulled him close, and for a moment he just rested against Demyx’s shoulder. His heart was racing, but so was Demyx’s. After a long moment of this, Ienzo looked up. Demyx kissed him with the same soft hesitance as before. His hands slid down Ienzo’s back, bringing with it an onslaught of want. Ienzo slipped his hands under Demyx’s shirt and eased it off, hearing something like a gasp. This encouraged him and eased the nervousness somewhat. Demyx took off his sweater. Ienzo pulled him closer and tried to ease down onto the bed, but overbalanced, and they both ended up falling gracelessly onto the mattress.

Demyx laughed a little. “You’re not exactly graceful.”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little too. “You compromise me.”

“It’s my natural charm.”

Another rush of nerves came over him, almost paralyzing him. He was ready, he was sure of it; but he should say something, right? Seek consent, or give it? Or let things run their course naturally? 

Demyx seemed to notice this struggle. “What’s wrong?”

"Nothing. That is to say..." He bit his lip. "Do you... recall, the first time we were at all intimate, and I asked you... I asked you if it was painful." His voice was barely audible.

He blushed. “...Yeah.”

“How so?”

He shifted his weight a little. When he spoke, he couldn’t quite look Ienzo in the eye.  "It's not... terrible. Not great, though. But it gets… better.”

Ienzo couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He had to spit it out. “Would you want to… would you want to try that?”

He exhaled sharply, blushing even harder. "Yeah. Are you sure you're ready? It's a big step."

"You make me feel safe," he said simply. "I want to... experience everything."

He kissed Ienzo. Ienzo struggled to remove his own slacks and underwear, and to deal with Demyx’s too. The way they were tangled didn’t make it easy, but he managed it. “Wait,” Demyx said.

His breath caught. 

Demyx bit his lip. "We kind of need lube. I mean. I'm not, like, huge, or anything, but you can't just..."

“I know. I’ve… been prepared.” He reached into the drawer for the bottle and set it down. “Are you ready?”

He laughed wryly. "Yes. But I... I... you drive me crazy."

"Be glad it isn't literal," he said, and kissed him.

Something like this wasn’t quick, and it took more thinking than it should. Demyx stroked him a few times, which helped him get his mind off the unknown. "Can you shift forward a little?" he asked Ienzo. "Your hips, so I can--" He was nervous too, and this was a comfort. 

He listened, letting his knees fall open. Demyx’s eyes were full of warmth. "You're so beautiful."

He snorted a little. “You flatter me.”

Demyx took the lube and spread it across his fingers. Ienzo was somewhat relieved. He’d been preparing himself for all of it at once. “This first. Try to relax.”

He tried to listen, but he never consciously thought about these muscles. There was a moment where Demyx seemed to struggle to gather himself. Ienzo felt him fumbling down there, and then a lot of pressure. 

“Does that hurt?” 

He tried to relax, having unconsciously clenched his fists. “Not quite pain. It’s unexpected.” After a moment, the pressure subsided a bit, only to increase when another finger slid into him, with a sharp prickling sensation. Ienzo gripped his upper arm. “That does hurt a little.”

"Okay. Okay. Too dry, or--?"

"I think I need to adjust." He shut his eyes for a moment, trying hard to relax, even as self-consciousness and nerves threatened. Demyx kissed him. The warmth of it chased away the pain, and he waited another moment or so to be sure. “It’s okay now.”

“You sure?”

"It's the pressure, I think. I never quite thought..." He didn’t think it would feel like  _ this _ . "Dreams and thoughts tend to be... more instantly pleasurable." Easier. Less embarrassing.

"I thought you'd never--"

"That doesn't mean I don't think about it."

He laughed a little. "Do you think I could... try to..." 

Ienzo reached up to touch his face. "Slowly."

He used more of the lube on himself this time. Ienzo realized he’d never quite seen it before. It had always been too dark before, or hidden in a bundle of blankets. Anticipation made him shiver. Demyx’s need to compliment him  earlier made a lot more sense. Demyx was quite beautiful. 

Ienzo tried to ease forward a little more. There was a little bit more fumbling, and he could feel the tip of it against him, warm and insistent. More pressure, this time, and while there wasn’t pain, there was no real pleasure, either. Demyx shuddered and eased inside of him gently. 

“Are you alright?” Ienzo asked him.

“Yeah, I just…” He shut his eyes. “It feels really good.”

He figured that a few minutes of feeling uncomfortable was worth making Demyx feel that good. Ienzo kissed him and drew him a little closer. He felt his dick rubbing against his stomach. At least this much was good. Demyx bucked up against him. A fissure of sharpness--so sudden he wasn’t quite sure  _ what _ it was--broke his awareness. Something good. Too good to put it to words.

He must’ve made some kind of sound. “I’m sorry,” Demyx said.

“It didn’t hurt,” he insisted. “I assure you. I felt--”

He smiled. “Oh. Well. That’s good.”

Demyx leaned against him. It took some more fumbling before he got comfortable with it, and before Ienzo could feel the same almost sharp pleasure. There was a richness to it, a complexity, moreso than their other encounters. He found himself losing track of the outside world, getting caught up in his body and the tightness inside of him. It was too good to last much longer, he knew. A lot of things were making sense that hadn’t before. 

Ienzo tightened the arm that he’d wrapped around Demyx’s waist (when had that happened?). He kissed him feeling warm all over, and fragile. 

Demyx broke off the kiss. He whispered something, but Ienzo couldn’t quite hear it. Again, there was no anxiety, or fear, just the pureness of the moment. He couldn’t hold it back if he tried. It was the most intense orgasm he’d had, leaving him feeling faint and so very vulnerable as the endorphins began to fade. There was something like a flush of warmth inside him as Demyx came too. They pulled their bodies gently apart. 

Demyx lay down next to him and took his hand.

Sweet overstimulation made him feel shaky, but he wasn’t trembling outwardly. Ienzo blinked, trying to clear his head. He looked over and saw tears in Demyx’s eyes.

“You’re crying,” Ienzo said.

“It’s a good cry.”

He understood. His own heart felt so full it might burst open, and his body was still hyperaware of every little touch. He’d never felt so  _ much _ before, at least, not so much pleasure. “I… I never thought I could contain so much feeling,” he said shakily. “At first… admittedly… I could not understand why it is people do this, and then… well…”

“I hit the spot?”

“So to speak.”

He smiled. “It’ll get easier,” Demyx said.

“Yes. I… look forward to the practice. But for now… I’m feeling a tad overwhelmed. Can we just rest for a while?”

“I love you.”

Ienzo could tell he relished saying those words. Perhaps Demyx had never had anyone he’d ever loved in any capacity. “And I you.”

* * *

 

To go back to a normal, everyday life after that was… odd. 

Ienzo didn’t believe in the concept of virginity, but to say that things weren’t different afterwards was completely incorrect. He’d changed, experienced something very intense and very human, and simply put, life would never be the same. While Demyx didn’t say anything on the matter, Ienzo thought that he might feel similarly. They didn’t say much; they didn’t really have to. He slept deeply and woke up with a soreness in his hips that only grew more noticeable when he walked to the bathroom. 

The warm water soothed him and helped with the pain. It felt no worse than muscles after a good amount of exercise, but it was a tangible reminder of what had happened. He dressed gingerly and combed his hair. Looking in the mirror, he saw more himself than Zexion. This was far out of his past self’s understanding. 

Clean, he returned to the kitchen and looked through the gummiphone, feeling an overwhelmed sort of happiness. 

After about half an hour Demyx returned from his bath. “I slept like a rock,” he said, as if they hadn’t shared the same bed. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Ienzo said. He wondered if they should talk about it, to debrief, but he kind of liked the understated quiet of the moment. 

Breakfast, coffee. Demyx’s knee rested against his. “...You feel okay?” Demyx asked.

So he did want to talk about it. If only there wasn’t a fear of being overheard. Everyone might know of their relationship, but they didn’t need to know specifics. Ienzo listened for rogue footsteps and heard nothing. “I’m… a little sore,” he admitted. “It is bearable, though.”

"Me too. Your death grip on my arm didn't help."

"I... did not mean to hurt you," he said. "I was not exactly fully aware of my surroundings."

Demyx smiled. "It's fine. I'm just teasing." 

"Are you alright?"

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good, actually.” He laid his hand on top of Ienzo’s. “I didn’t think things would feel so different.”

“I agree,” he said quietly. “I think the whole ordeal was new to both of us.”

“Very,” Demyx said. 

“It  _ was _ a big step. Insofar as these things go. It never made sense to me before, how invested people became in one another, how vulnerable it made them. Yet I feel as though I’m finally coming together. I’ve found a wholeness as well.”

Demyx picked up his hand and kissed it. “Do you want to work together today?” he asked.

Ienzo pretended to check Demyx’s temperature. “Are you sure you’re feeling quite alright? If I heard you correctly,  _ you _ want to  _ work. _ ”

He snorted. But his tone was rather earnest. “You know, I kind of do,” he said. “Things got really intense, really fast. I need a breather after these few days.”

Ienzo couldn’t help but agree. “Let’s take our time.” Really they had only been together about a month. “I should like to work with you again.”

The study room was cold, though the sunlight helped a little. Demyx started, very carefully, copying the master score onto clean staff paper. Really it made sense to have two copies of these things, especially given how old and fragile the original was. Ienzo watched him write, trying to summon the energy or strength to do his own work, finding little. His mind was drawn, irrevocably, to the fact that he’d abandoned his prior research. Abandoned Sora.

As much as he tried to internalize the fact that investigating farther would be dangerous, and he really just had to  _ wait _ like everyone else, the usual guilt put an anxious knot in his throat. He hated feeling helpless. Hated grieving.

Ienzo leaned against Demyx’s shoulder and watched him write. Initiating touch was easy now, no longer so overwhelming. He always had such a clean scent, like salt and ginger. Ienzo rarely missed his old uncanny sense of smell, but now was one of those times. Demyx copied the lines quickly and cleanly, and Ienzo noted that he was also putting down the runes at the end of each line with a strange sort of ease. “You actually have rather nice handwriting. I’ve seen your old mission reports. What, were you trying to make it more difficult for Saïx?”

“I wrote them with my left hand,” Demyx admitted. “The guy was a jerk! Why make things easy for him?”

Ienzo shook his head. “I admit he was… a character.” Even for a Nobody, Saïx’s cruelty had been uncalled for, particularly towards the neophytes. Isa’s kindness now was all the the more bizarre.

“But you were always so good, so he never bothered you.”

“...Precisely.” Ienzo had to admit that he was _ very good _ at doing what he was told. He’d believed--naively, childishly--in what the Organization sought. Kingdom Hearts. To him, it had meant infinite knowledge, to the others it symbolized power. They’d all been mere pawns in a bigger game. And Ienzo’d thought he’d been so clever.

Demyx shook out his hand. “I’m surprised as researchers you guys don’t have a copier.”

“Well--we  _ did _ ,” Ienzo said. The memory made him cringe a little. “It was down in Even’s lab because he fought tooth and nail to have it by his side. But one of his experiments went awry, who-knows-what got all over the damn thing, and it’s back to hand-copying or printing everything.” Really Even was more of a chemical engineer, playing with compounds and matter. How else had he made the replicas? 

“At least it’s easier to read this way. I’m betting the guy was running out of paper. Everything’s so cramped together.” Demyx straightened the pages he’d completed. 

Ienzo studied them closely. The text at the side was in both runes and their language. “You divided out the sections. Did you look at my translations while I was speaking to Ansem?”

“The what now?”

He touched the margins. The writing was clear as day-- _ mandolin, cello, oboe,  _ and so on and so forth. Demyx’d done both the key and the abbreviations on the page. 

“I must have been thinking of something else,” Demyx said, but there was a puzzled look on his face. He shuffled back to the old score.  “Remember that “F or S” thing you wondered about?” He sounded strained.

“Your tone is concerning,” Ienzo said. “Whatever’s happened?”

“It could’ve been an F. F for flute. But it wasn’t. It’s S for--” He cut himself off and exhaled sharply. He put a hand to his face, as though it hurt.

Ienzo blinked. “Sitar? That’s an unusual coincidence.” His mind was spinning. Against his will it was all making sense--

Demyx barked out an odd laugh. “It’s not a coincidence, Ienzo.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx begins to recover his memories, but he might not survive the process. Ienzo comes up with a plan.

XIV.

Denial was always the quickest and easiest way to ease cognitive dissonance. “...I’m afraid I don’t understand whatever it is you’re implying,” Ienzo said.

“It’s mine,” Demyx said. The pain cut his voice in two. He sat completely rigid, his eyes empty and haunted.

Ienzo took a deep breath. A shaky anxiety bloomed in his chest. Demyx’s lack of memories--recognizing the phrase “Daybreak Town”--it wasn’t poetic language. It was a place. Xehanort had understood time travel more than the rest of them. Could he possibly have--? “No, it can’t be. That means that somehow you’d have to be hundreds of years old. Surely you would have recognized it before now. No. I’m sure whatever connection you feel to this musician is just that.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“I wasn’t fully  _ human _ before.” He hissed the words. He breathed harshly. He touched the score, hand trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and pressed his hands over his ears.

Ienzo was numb with panic, the revelations throwing him badly. It was  _ not _ possible. How could it be? And yet. This was  _ exactly _ the sort of thing Xehanort would do to get a move in edgewise, to pull from the past to subvert the present. Even though he was dead, playing with innocent lives had a cost--

Demyx cried out. It was an agonized, all-too-human sound. Ienzo reached for him and shook him, but he was deep in some kind of trance and would not rouse. He took out his gummiphone and made the call.

“Even.” His own voice was ragged and utterly unlike his normal measured diction. “Even, I need help.”

“Whatever is the matter?”

“It’s Demyx--” He could not verbalize what was going on. Their connection had grown so deep, so quickly, that seeing him in so much pain was nearly incapacitating.

“Is he hurt?”

“Not physically.”

“I think I understand,” Even said. “I’m on my way.”

Demyx was whimpering, small involuntary noises. It was possible he was seeing his own memories, and the psychological and physiological impacts of that were no doubt extreme. Ienzo pulled at his wrist and found it was rather limp. He took Demyx’s pulse. High. Frightened, and impossible to maintain. If they didn’t stabilize him his heart could give out.  

Even threw open the door. “What is it? What’s happened?” He was breathless.

“I’m not really sure--he--this score… he insisted it was his, and then he went into this weird trance, and I think he’s remembering  _ something _ . Even, I don’t know.”

Even crouched down next to Demyx, checked his vitals. “He’s clearly in pain, and cannot maintain a heart rate that high for very long.” He pulled a syringe and a vial out of his pocket. He stuck Demyx in the arm. Demyx started to relax as the sedation took hold. Ienzo eased him down so his head was resting in his lap. Even continued to monitor his pulse. His expression was wistful--but not at all surprised.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Ienzo asked.

Even did not respond right away. He looked to the score, still on the piano bench. “It was not my secret to share.”

“Even,” Ienzo said a little more sharply.

“Xehanort had more than one trump card up his sleeve.” He sighed. “Didn’t you find it  _ strange _ how we all arrived in groups? Us apprentices with Lea and Isa, and then the four neophytes. There was some degree of time between each arrival, but not nearly enough to justify what were were told. If we were to believe it, that humanoid Nobodies were rare, shouldn’t it have taken a lot longer to find the original thirteen?” He brushed his hair out of his face. “I’m not sure how exactly, but Xehanort pulled four Keyblade wielders from the age of fairy tales and made them Nobodies. Obfuscated their memories too, from the looks of things. I have no idea  _ why _ it is he did this. But Xemnas told them at some point before the war, and Demyx asked me to investigate. I’m guessing this connection between you two only furthered his progress to humanity, and that when presented with a trigger, the memories came back.”

Ienzo looked down to Demyx, who was deep in the grips of artificial sleep. “So it’s true then.”

Even nodded. “...Yes. It’s true. I’ve studied his DNA myself. You positively would not believe it, Ienzo--”

Cold, anxious sweat gathered under his arms. “And you didn’t think it prudent to ever mention this to me?”

Even’s eyes softened. “Would it have changed your mind?”

“...No.”

“Precisely. I assure you he hasn’t  _ experienced _ that passage of time.”

“...He said he’d remembered something from his past. I did not think it was  _ this _ . So that means he’s really a--” Ienzo thought of Demyx’s deep distaste for fighting or violence. In this new context, it made sense. The horrors of war could have planted that seed deep into his subconscious. 

“Yes.” Even smiled, aware of the irony. “I worked so hard to make replicas who could wield Keyblades, and we had four wielders right under our noses.”

“But will he be all right?”

“Hard to say. All of those memories, some doubtless very gruesome and traumatic, his heart  _ just _ healing… we must be patient.”

They brought Demyx back to his room. Even started an IV, gave him more medication. Ienzo couldn’t help, only watch. Once this was all through, Even led him to the kitchen and made him some tea. Cool tears which were oddly emotionless slid down his face. Even handed Ienzo a clean handkerchief. 

“It is… a lot to process,” Even said. “But we’ve seen Roxas and Xion in spells like these and they both came out on the other side. Have faith.”

“Why is healing so dangerous?” Ienzo asked. 

“It’s only as dangerous as we delude ourselves,” Even said finally. “Unfortunately, the spell he was under was a strong one.”

“Do you think he’ll be different?” His voice was a whisper.

Even considered this. “Perhaps,” he said. “But no different than you yourself are. But the boy loves you, Ienzo. You can tell by the way he looks at you. I don’t think that will change.”

Ienzo looked down at his hands. “Is it typical, to feel this amount of shock?”

Even touched Ienzo’s forehead. “Like many such reactions, it’s a stress response.”

“It is so… strange.” He did not meet Even’s gaze and instead traced the woodgrain of the table with his eyes. “With all that’s happened in the past month or so, I find myself wondering if it is good to allow such vulnerability.” 

“I admit the situations have been… extreme.” Even flinched. “But we’ve spent long enough closing our hearts and minds off to others, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted. “You’ve been holed up in your lab all day every day, barely speaking to anyone. You seem to be the most hesitant of us all to accept humanity. Atonement aside.”

“I don’t deny it.” Even sighed. “But I have not spent my time experimenting.”

“What are you doing, then?” Ienzo asked dryly.

“Writing. Reflecting, mostly. Things always were the most tangible to me when they were on paper. If I can record my thoughts as data, perhaps I can make sense of them.”

“Is it working?”

“Heavens, no,” Even said. “But if I do not tread these tides of emotion, then I am more foolish than I thought.” 

“What is it you feel?” 

Even frowned. “Mostly--remorse--” He admitted. He shook his head. “As scientists, one of our duties is upholding a moral code. Needless to say, we broke it. Xehanort was manipulative, yes, but while you were a child, I was an educated man who should have known better. I did know better. But I figured the gains I made would offset the costs. They have not. And now I want to use my skills for the greater good.”

“Do you think the replicas could have anything to do with that?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Ienzo waited for him to elaborate, but he did not. “I must apologize to you, Ienzo.” 

It took Ienzo’s dazed mind a moment to process whatever for. “Even--”

“We can blame Ansem’s utter lack of paternal instinct all we want, but ultimately it is my fault that this all happened to you.” For the first time, Ienzo noticed glints of gray in Even’s blonde hair--gray borne of age and stress, not from his time as a vessel. “I should have understood Xehanort’s machinations and taken you out of that mess, but I was selfishly nearsighted. Things are always clearer in retrospect. Are they not? You deserved a normal childhood, a normal adolescence, and got anything but. And years of fear and trauma on top of it.”

Ienzo sighed. Despite the real truths in what Even said, Ienzo did not find any bitterness or resentment within himself. “I forgive you,” he said.

“You’re a kind young man,” Even said. He smiled sadly. “I will try to make this up to you.” He stood. “I’m off to do some reading. There might be a better way for me to help Demyx after all.” He squeezed Ienzo’s shoulder. 

Ienzo went to bed.

His mind felt oddly devoid of thought and for a long time he watched the light change on the ceiling. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he became aware of, it was the middle of the night and he was dreadfully cold. He burrowed under the covers.

_ It’s time to make sense of things, Ienzo. _

Really this was something like heartache and he was struck by just how  _ unfair _ the whole situation was. Xehanort was dead and he was still tormenting them both, jerking them back and forth on his omniscient puppet strings. Ienzo had lost his childhood; Demyx had lost all his memories. Xehanort had manipulated both of them, molding them like clay, while they remained none the wiser.

Ienzo sat up. He was livid. More aptly, really pissed off. What was the result of all this manipulation? And why did it feel so meaningless? If it weren’t for Xehanort--

If it weren’t for Xehanort…

Ienzo’s anger cooled as quickly as it had come, hardening into a sour pit in his stomach. So much suffering. There had to be something else he could do, and not just for Sora. What about the others who had been lost, killed or worse by their experiments? 

He stood up, put on shoes, and started walking.

In a sort of haze, he passed by the usual lab and over to the door to the containment cells. Nobody had come down here in a long time; least of all himself. The air down here was even colder--he could see his breath--and the crystal sconces didn’t penetrate the gloom. This was dangerous. He was weaponless, powerless, and in distress; no doubt bait for Heartless. Ienzo remembered the keycode for the door. He reached towards the keypad. It was so much lower than it had once been. It was a simple number--all he had to do was punch it in. 

He could not catch his breath. The air smelled faintly smoky, a precursor to the darkness no doubt contained within. He sank weakly to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m truly…” 

“Ienzo? What on earth are you doing down here?”

Ansem’s voice startled him. The flashlight he carried cast peculiar shadows across his face. “I could say the same,” he said. He forced himself to his feet.

Ansem had a tablet computer tucked under his arm. “Data recovery,” he said. “I had to wait for the download to complete.”

“Data,” Ienzo said numbly. 

“I suppose you’re wondering what I want with it.” This basement was so deathly silent that Ienzo could hear his own breathing. “Come. I’ll share my story if you share yours.”

Ienzo followed after Ansem, icy curiosity replacing his previous rage. Ansem took him down hallway after hallway, some of which were familiar, some of which were not. Ienzo knew a lot of this castle was unexplored, and had a lot of secrets that even they did not know about. Its weight seemed particularly heavy.

They did not return to Ansem’s quarters. Instead, these infinite hallways trailed out into, of all things, a large greenhouse. 

Many of the plants that had been in these pots and planters had long since withered and died. The crystal walls were dingy with years of dirt, scratched and eroded from the weather. Power cords snaked from a hole in the chipped marble floor to a small console computer. Floodlights and a space heater made the room brighter than it would be otherwise. 

Ansem cleared papers off of a folding chair and gestured for Ienzo to sit. He turned up the space heater.

“A strange workspace,” Ienzo commented. “Stranger still, your decision to hide.”

Ansem plugged in the tablet and began uploading the files. There was more silence, weird and flexible. “Why were you in the basement?”

Ienzo blinked. He felt an odd shiver of distrust, and it sat poorly in his throat. “Xehanort’s parade of suffering is still rippling through this castle,” he said. “Demyx and Luxord, Elrena and Lauriam--they’re Keyblade wielders. He pulled them from the age of fairy tales, hid their memories, and tried to use them as vessels.”

Ansem shook his head.

“Xemnas told the four of them during the war. Demyx had Even parse his DNA, and sure enough, it’s true.” He spoke rather numbly. “There was a sheaf of papers in one of your bookcases. It was a musical score from that time. I don’t know if you knew about it, or if it just ended up there, but it turns out Demyx wrote it. Now that he’s human… well. His memories are all coming back.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the chair. “And seeing him experiencing that--”

“It’s always harrowing to see a loved one in pain,” Ansem interrupted. 

Ienzo felt a flush of frustration. Why were they all feeling the need to comment on their relationship all of a sudden? “Yes. I got to thinking about the legacy of suffering Xehanort had inflicted on us. I started to wonder if there might be a way to help the people we hurt find peace.”

“I am not so sure about that. There are no bodies, Ienzo. And I’ve no idea if whatever lurks down there has existed since the experiments, or if it’s drawn from a greater pool of darkness.”

“Then why were you recovering the data, if you’re not sure it can be of use?”

Ansem looked briefly to the screen. “I had thought such knowledge should be destroyed,” he muttered. “I had gone down there with every intent to rip apart the console if that’s what it took. But then I realized. The lessons we’ve learned since those experiments can be a cautionary tale. People should know what we did. If we’re careful, we can help everyone else learn from our mistakes so that it won’t happen again.”

“I want to see it.”

“What was that?”

“The rest of the data. I would like to see it.” Ienzo could feel the idea blooming within him. It was a reckless, exhilarating feeling. If he was right about this, he could help everyone. 

“Of course you may--once it’s all downloaded.”

Ienzo nodded. Even the volumes he’d read those weeks ago had only been part of their records. Soon it would be time to dive deeper. But for now, he had another task.

* * *

 

Before he went further, he checked in on Demyx. 

He was asleep. He breathed a little too deeply and evenly, his form immobile. Ienzo wasn’t sure if Even was still dosing him, or if this stillness came from the memories recovering from a more subconscious place. These things were so hard to tell. Ienzo kissed him on the forehead and left. 

Even, too, was asleep when Ienzo found him on the cot in his lab. Of course he was; it was still rather late at night. Ienzo wondered if he were a tad manic. He should go lay down himself, wait until a reasonable time to ask for this favor. He turned to leave.

Even had always been a notoriously light sleeper. “Who’s there?” he snapped, grabbing a scalpel from the table beside him. “Oh… Ienzo? Is something wrong? Is it Demyx?”

“No, he’s still stable--it’s fine. It can wait until morning.”

Even scowled. “Clearly not, if you felt the need to come to me at this godforsaken hour.” His expression softened. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Do you think it’s possible to regain our powers?”

Even considered this. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “Why on earth would you want that?”

“Illusion let me see memories. If I can gain control over it, maybe I can help purge the darkness in the basement and help whoever’s stuck down there find peace.” He bit his lip. “Demyx is likely to be shaken up. Perhaps I can help him too. If I can make order of his memories, perhaps he will wake up without too much damage to his heart.”

Even thought a long moment. “Have you even tried casting a spell?”

“Once,” Ienzo said. “It… did not go well. I had a terrible migraine. I was wondering if you might have some sort of medicine that might let me work through the pain.”

Even shook his head. He stood and crossed over to a bookshelf near the cot. He pulled out one of the volumes and started riffling. “You see… the thing is… such elemental power comes from the will, typically as a manifestation of some psychological trait or another. Hence why, in the absence of a heart, we were able to use it as Nobodies. But now that you are human… you’ve no need for such defense mechanism. Your being is whole. Trying to invoke it could be disastrous. The entropy of it alone would, in the best possible scenario, induce sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“Sleep akin to death,” Even said darkly. “They must lie so closely together.  _ And  _ you must hope you find the strength, fast enough, to save your life before you’re claimed by the other side. Ienzo.” His gaze was tense, frightened. “Would the risk be worth it? Is there not another way you can atone?”

“What about the reward?” Ienzo asked. 

“Ienzo--”

“Please, Even. I’ll be careful.”

He crosses over to a cabinet and opened it. Bottles and bottles of pills lined the walls. Even considered several before he picked up one. “Take  _ half _ of one of these,” he said sternly. “You’ll feel no pain. But should your nose start bleeding, drop everything instantly and rest.”

“Is that a side effect?”

“No. But that’ll be entropy wreaking havoc on your body.” Even pressed the bottle into his hand. “Let me watch over you.”

Ienzo traced the ridged cap. “I think this is something I have to do on my own.” He’d be going to a very painful place.

Even scoffed. “You children always think you know what’s best. Fine. But if you do not text me within  _ three hours _ I will hunt you down.”

“Very well. Thank you, Even. This means a lot to me.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He smiled tiredly. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to save Demyx, Ienzo regains his power.

XV.

Ienzo made himself eat. He cut one of the white pills in half and took it, flinching at the bitter taste. He set a timer for the three hours, took the small hand mirror from his bedroom, and crossed back to Demyx’s room. He sat at the foot of the bed.

Mirrors and reflections always made this easier in the past. What else was an illusion than a reflection of hopes, or fears, or memories?

Ienzo leaned back against the bed frame. He waited some time for the medication to take effect, trying to keep his thoughts orderly and calm before proceeding. He didn’t think he would feel anything, but after about twenty minutes or so a vague tingling started in his extremities, and his vision became woozy. He was convinced that Even gave him a sleeping pill rather than a painkiller or nerve block, but the sensation wasn’t like drowsiness. The walls seemed to have no straight edges. His breaths felt foreign.

Ienzo picked up the mirror. There was his own face, clear as day. He shut his eyes.

Magic, aside from the most complex glamour, had always come easily. He understood now more than he had before how deeply Demyx grieved the loss of Arpeggio. Dark or not, this power had been part of him. His control over the illusion was a projection of the loss of control he’d had over his own life. Manipulating others had been the easy way out.

No more.

He took a deep breath, and let his memory drift back. Surely the utter clarity of his own memories was a sign he could still work with others’. 

In the beginning, those first numb and horrifying weeks as a Nobody left him overloaded to the point of silence. Xemnas took Ansem’s role as their leader seamlessly, down to the name. At first it seemed clear to them that they would continue their experiments, albeit with a pool of participants all the World over. But Xemnas--Xehanort--had a larger goal in mind. Kingdom Hearts. To get there, they needed Keyblade users. So they were sent out into the World to try and find them. Heartless hunted him mercilessly, figuring due to his small size and fragile nature he was easy pickings. He returned badly wounded more than once before his power manifested.

Heartless, after all, were easier to fool than people. Give them a decoy and they’ll chase after it. As he grew, physically and mentally, so did his power. His illusions deepened, took on the ability to also interact with the senses. It was all perception, of course, entirely artificial. He found he could sense the memories of others, could build these memories in real time. 

His own memory was easiest to work with. He straightened his spine. 

Remember. And create.

Perhaps an emptier room would have been a better starting point. He imagined his other bedroom, from the Organization. The barren gray walls. The cold metal floor. The bookshelf packed with volumes with identical spines. The window out into the Nobody city, how it always had its own damp sticky scent. The feel of the black coat against his skin, soft and supple. 

Despite the medicine, he could feel hollow echoes of pain gnawing hungrily. Ienzo touched the space below his nose--still dry. He opened his eyes.

The space in front of him had changed. The surge of relief he felt was nearly enough to shake what little illusion he’d built. It was an imperfect manifestation--things seemed to twitch in the corners and in some spots he could still see Demyx’s real bedroom peeking through, as if through a veil. But it was something.

He stood slowly, dizziness battering him. He approached the mirror above the dresser hesitantly, aware that Zexion’s room had been bigger and he likely hadn’t yet regained the ability to manipulate spatial perception.

Ienzo looked at himself--and flinched. Zexion stared back. He could feel his human clothes, but what he saw was the cloak. 

“It’s over now,” he said to himself.

“Is that what you think?” 

The reflection in the mirror moved with him, but the voice in his ear was definitely his own. Ienzo turned away. The facade of the cloak melted away, leaving him in his apprentice garb.

“Clever, clever Ienzo,” said the voice. “You should’ve realized that you’re not immune to your own manipulations anymore.”

Ienzo scowled. “You are a poor projection of my own guilt. I don’t need you anymore.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Come here.”

The illusion pitched and pulled. He found himself standing in a cold dark room in Castle Oblivion. A large and familiar book was in his hands. “So this is what you are,” he said. He looked down.

The color was no longer a sage green, no longer adorned with the Nobody insignia. It was a soft blue, with an artistic rendering of a heart. 

“Old friend,” Ienzo said. “You’re different.”

“You do see why I haven’t come sooner?”

“I believe so. But do elaborate. It’s not often I can converse so clearly with my own subconscious.”

“You had to begin to forgive yourself. You had to accept the love you were given. Steep costs for you.”

Ienzo frowned, disappointed. “I’ve done it, then?”

“You may have a complex mind, but your heart is no different than anyone else’s.”

Ienzo stroked the soft cloth cover. It was an odd sensation, familiar-yet-not, like so much of this life. “So he was the key.”

“It didn’t necessarily have to be him. It could have been any love. Familial, platonic. This just so happened to be first.”

“Can I still help people?”

“That’s up to you.”

Ienzo opened the book. The lexicon had always been infinitely useful. Its pages seemed numbered, but the content was completely under his control. Whenever he read or wrote something, it could be accessed inside forevermore. He could access memories. Data. 

The inside of the front cover was written in ink.  _ Property of Ienzo, age 8 _ . He remembered that birthday Ansem had given him a fountain pen and he’d been incredibly proud of it. The handwriting looked similar to it had back then, an attempt at neatness and maturity, falling short. 

“Was Even right?” he asked slowly. “Will this risk my life in the process?”

“All power has a cost. You know this.”

Ienzo stared down at the lexicon for several moments. There simply wasn’t  _ time _ to parse this out properly. He had no idea how much of his three hours he’d already spent. Time he was wasting. Time that trauma could be eating Demyx alive. And if he were to do  _ nothing _ , and Demyx were to lose the will to live, what then? Could he ever forgive himself? He might as well kill him with his own hands.

 “Do you want this power back?” the lexicon asked. 

“I cannot let people keep suffering.” 

“Then there’s something we have to see.”

The pages of the lexicon shifted of their own accord. Within it was a memory, rendered as though it were a children’s story, with the same etched-looking illustrations. 

Ienzo and Xehanort, walking through the castle. The ever-present sea salt ice cream. 

“Seven years old. A grown up little man,” Xehanort said.

“Yes,” Ienzo said. 

“Master says you’re doing wonderfully well in your studies. Most children your age are only barely learning to read and write, and you’re studying neuroscience. If only there were more minds like yours. This world would be a vastly better place.”

Reading it now, it was so incredibly obvious, the way Xehanort hefted and tugged the strings.

“I only wish he would let you help with our research. A fresh, young, innocent perspective might be just what we need.” 

“I like helping.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I can ask again. I’m seven now.”

“It’s worth a shot. If that’s what you wish.”

The story faded, shifted to a new memory--Ansem’s study, Ienzo so very small in the chair across from his master, head bent over a book that filled his lap. 

“Master?”

A kind smile. Ansem had always doted on him, except when it really mattered. “What is it, my boy?”

“Am I very smart?”

“Why yes--of course.”

“Can I help you work?” His speech then had been much simpler, much more plain. Initially, the trauma of losing his parents left him completely mute. It had taken nearly a year to shake the silence.

In the present, Ienzo felt something very like pain. He did not know if it was physical or emotional. “Why are you making me see this?” he asked the lexicon. “I know how it all went down.” 

“Do you forgive him?” The text appeared on the page, no longer a whispered voice. 

“Master Ansem? Is that… part of all this?”

“He is part of me. He is part of you. His choices have rippled through your life. Carelessly. He agreed to these experiments. He didn’t stop them until it was too late.”

“It is not my place to say anything of the sort.”

“Perhaps when you were a child. That’s not the case now.”

The book trembled in his hands. 

“He gave me a home when no one else would,” Ienzo said.

“He said he would take care of us. But he changed his mind.” The book shuffled again, to a different illustration, of darkness consuming Even and Ienzo. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Of course it does, but that was not his choice, he was thrown into--”

“Do you forgive him?”

Ienzo swallowed. “Must I? To take back this power?”

“All it requires is clarity of thought.”

“Because lately that has been so easy.” His mouth was sour. “No. I do not forgive him. Not yet.”

The lexicon flicked through some illustrations. Being strangled to death, waking up as Ienzo, assisting Sora, reuniting with Demyx when he was a vessel. Reuniting with Ansem. Working on the replicas. And every little thing that had happened since then, one after the other, faster and faster, until--

The room in Castle Oblivion gave way to a starry night. Long grasses curled around his knees. Illumina petals, wild and free, glowed softly in the dark, lighting the path forward. Another thin finger of pain, gagged and numb, crawled up and down his spine.

“Where am I now?” Ienzo asked the lexicon, but its work was done; it was silent. He treaded the path. A gentle breeze stirred up the smell of the flowers. Time was truncating; it seemed like he walked both a very long way and not far at all. The scent of the field mingled with something like a sea breeze. He held the book tightly under his arm as a sort of anchor and kept walking, touching the spot below his nose every few hundred meters, but it remained dry. 

He heard tides. Softly at first, then closer and closer. The field of grass gave way to sand, which was soft and cool under his now-bare feet. Ienzo’s illusions had never been this strong to him personally. If he had to, could he get out? The lexicon in his arms seemed to shudder a little. How much farther could he push? 

The sea spread across the horizon. A quarter-horn moon coated everything in a silvery light. The surf looked calm, and gentle, but he could feel the pain radiating from it. He approached cautiously. 

His powers were stronger and weaker than ever before. He had gone, somehow, from recreating memory to actively  _ walking within it. _

He set the lexicon down and placed a hand in the gentle, cold surf. Keyblade wielders--child warriors--gathered listening to a woman in a pink robe give an impassioned speech. Something about  _ they will not remember. _ Fighting alongside other young children who called him another name, against Heartless and other deformed creatures, and the then-unscarred ground of the Keyblade Graveyard--

Ienzo yanked his hand out of the water, feeling as though he had somehow violated Demyx.

“Where are you?” he asked. 

No response. He could see nothing, just sand, and water, and night. Ienzo took another step towards the water.

A harsh, sharp pain shot through his chest and back, almost knocking him over. This was too much power. The entropy. He had to act quickly. Otherwise this would all be for naught and they would  _ both _ end up dead. 

He waded into the water. It was icy cold, and painful. Little whisps of memory darted across his vision, memories that weren’t his. He tried not to look at them, but he couldn’t necessarily help it. Fights. Keyblades. Songs-- the most melancholic music he’d ever heard. He took a deep breath, and dove.

Demyx was drowning, immobile and sinking slowly, his palms outstretched. Ienzo, never the strongest swimmer, pressed hard against the viscous memory. His chest was hurting again, though whether it was from entropy or the perceived lack of oxygen he wasn’t sure.

Ienzo grasped his hand and felt something like a shock. The pain of it made him cry out and lose more precious air.

This was unnatural. This would have a price.

It was too late to turn back. 

Ienzo grasped both of his hands and pulled. Between the weight and the effort and the memories, Ienzo couldn’t be sure he was bringing them to shore. 

They surfaced at last. His muscles were weak and trembling. He dragged Demyx away from the surf and all but collapsed.

 Demyx coughed and gagged, spitting up seawater. He groaned.

“Are you alright?” Even outside of the water, the pain was still there, hungry. 

Demyx looked up. Apprehension and fear crossed his face, and for a moment Ienzo wondered if he should have left him in the water, if he were disturbing some necessary process. “Ienzo?” His voice was hoarse.

Ienzo breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Demyx, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here? How--” He coughed harder, and Ienzo patted him on the back. 

“My power brought me here.”

“Your power?” He sounded incredulous. “I thought you didn’t have any--” 

Ienzo picked up the lexicon and held it out to him. “I’ve found it. My power as Zexion let me bring people into their memory. It only seems natural that as Ienzo I can bring people out of it.”

“It’s different,” he said softly. Demyx shook his head. “Still, you’re in my head--this is weird.”

“I’m sorry. I… I was trying to help.” He looked out towards the sea. “You could’ve drowned. You  _ were _ drowning. I could feel your heart there, so tenuous--” 

“Memory,” was all he said. 

“I know who you are,” Ienzo said. “Even told me. But I saw, too.”

His breath hitched. “I tried to tell you--”

Ienzo touched his face. Uncanny, how realistic the wetness and sand felt. “I know. You couldn’t’ve. I’m not mad at you.”

Demyx glanced away at him. His eyes were watering. “So much pain they tried to hide from us,” he said brokenly. “They did a shitty job. I can see  _ everything _ that happened _. _ ”

“Xehanort?”

He swallowed thickly. “The Foretellers.” His lip twitched. Ienzo drew him into his arms and Demyx started to cry. 

Another pang of pain inside of his head. This time it was like lightning. Ienzo knew there would be blood before he even checked.

“Ienzo?” Demyx asked wearily. “What’s--”

“Come back with me,” Ienzo said. “Quickly. We both have to wake up.”

“You’re bleeding--”

“My power, it’s--” The agony tightened within him. He didn’t know how to get out of here, but he had to do it fast. Even his illusory body was losing strength. 

“You’re burning out,” Demyx said.

“Worse. I’m--”

“Shit, shit, shit.” He was panicking. “Okay. Um.” He pinched himself hard. “Fuck, why did I think that would work? What do you normally do?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Demyx blinked. “This is probably really stupid but I can’t think of anything else--” He cut himself  off and kissed Ienzo square on the mouth, blood and all.

The next thing Ienzo was aware of was the pain. He couldn’t move. His insides felt like they were burning--they probably were.

Demyx was yelling. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Wake up. You have to--” Hands at his shoulder, his wrist, checking for a pulse. Pressure against his pockets. “I need help. Even, I need--  I think Ienzo’s dying and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Was he dying? He was feeling more numbness than pain now. 

Even’s voice. “What happened?”

“He found me. In my memory. I don’t know how, but he--he said he wasn’t supposed to have that power.” Ienzo heard a sob.

Even swore. “No. He isn’t. There’s a reason humans don’t control the elements willy-nilly. What are the symptoms?” He sounded slightly out of breath.

“He’s having trouble breathing. His pulse is really fucked up. His nose is bleeding and it seems like he’s in a lot of pain--” Another sob cut through Demyx. “I’m sorry, Even.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this.”

“Why is this happening?”

“Power like that comes from the will. It can only exist without the presence of a fully realized heart--otherwise, it’s too much power. Hence why Nobodies can use it as a defense mechanism. At that point, entropy starts wreaking havoc on the body. Your cells literally start to break down and melt.  The will to live starts to wear down.”

“Ienzo…”

“I’ve messaged Aerith. I don’t think my skills are enough. We must keep him alive until then.”

Alive.

Ienzo could not feel anything, not even fear. He tried to keep drawing breaths, to stay  _ alive _ , but his lungs were not responsive. He was starting to get dizzy, and drowsy. There was more pressure against his chest, repetitive and insistent. Demyx’s voice, again, heartbroken: “Why would you do this? Why didn’t you let me drown?”

He tried to fight the pull of sleep, but with his will cleaved, he had no choice but to give into it.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI.

The air was so dreadfully cold.

Ienzo looked down at his trembling palms. The light had a strange, bluish quality to it. He could see his breath.

He was not in his room, or anywhere in the castle he could recognize. The ground beneath him was dry, and grassy. The nighttime sky held no stars. He tried to sit up, but his body was so heavy, so unwieldy. He was so unbelievably tired. Near his face, an illumina plant was dying, its pale violet light choked by browning petals. 

Ienzo pushed himself up. His head throbbed.

Back inside of his own mind.

He stood, but a wave of weakness forced him back down on his knees. He reached for the lexicon, seeking desperately whatever scant guidance he might receive, but there was nothing. An eerie, windless silence. 

He was so tired.

Ienzo took a few deep breaths and tried to shake the exhaustion. Inch by inch, he stood and was able to remain on his feet, though vertigo flooded him.

“Easy,” said a voice. Ienzo’s heart ached.

He looked up and saw Demyx. “What…” He croaked. “No, you’re supposed to be out there.”

He looked a bit sheepish. “I--well, he, is.”

Ienzo exhaled. “You’re an illusion.”

“Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“I don’t have the energy for this,” Ienzo said. “He’s alright?”

Not-Demyx shrugged. “I think. I only know what you know.” The illusion offered a hand. Ienzo took it. 

“Things are quite bad, aren’t they,” Ienzo whispered.

“Uh… yeah,” he said nervously. “Yeah, I’m sort of here to deliver a message. I could be someone else, if that makes you more comfortable. I figured he’d be the most comforting.”

“You’re my will?”

“Like I said. It’s complicated.”

Ienzo swallowed. He felt a lump rising painfully in his throat. “What is the message?”

The will sighed. Uncanny, how down-pat it had Demyx’s mannerisms; then again, it was drawing from his own observations. “You’re… dying,” he said. “Right now, in this moment. You wore me down to nothing. All that pain. We always pushed ourself too hard, but we never saw consequences. Well, here’s the consequence. You’ve got a choice to make.”

“Choice?”

“You can wake up. Or you can go on.”

"What is the price?"

The will bit its lip. "You have to come to terms with your past. Fully. You have to let go of the guilt."

"How is that a price? That's something I've tried to surmount since I woke."

The will took his hands. They were warm. "You have to let go of the pain you've taken. Listen to them. Humanize them. You carry the memory even now. Considering how weak you made me, holding onto it is too much.”

“I’m so very tired.” Even in this place things seemed hazy and insubstantial. “I do want to live. I  _ need _ to live.”

The will touched his face. “Then it’s time to go to sleep.”

There was no transition. He blinked and all of a sudden he was in the basement. It was still new, still undestroyed. The air smelled fresh, utterly devoid of the darkness that would take over.

There was nothing here.

He walked slowly through the space, tracing his fingers over the numberplates. In the early days the cells looked less like prisons, more like merely an uncomfortable place to stay; beds made neatly with patterned blankets, modesty screens in front of the toilets, even small vases of flowers. The subjects would only stay overnight, if at all.

He took a small step into the room. His body felt so dreadfully heavy, so very weak. Each step exhausted him. He sat on the small, hard bed and crossed his arms tightly. How much more deeply into sleep could Ienzo go? He let himself lay down and imagined how it might feel for the door to close. Eventually, they’d replaced the pocket doors with steel ones as the situation devolved. 

It made a strange sort of sense. In a way, he was part of the experiments, too.

He forced himself to stand and with trembling hands forced the door shut.

A prison of symbolism.

The act so exhausted him that he sat right on the floor, his head rolling against the mattress. Memory breathed all around him. Mother reading him a bedtime story, smelling like rose and powder, then her astonishment when he took the book from her and started reading it back. Words and numbers always made sense, had been clear from the first day somebody had read to him. As a toddler, he’d sneak out of bed into the study to read their grown-up texts, delicious works about sociology and botany, history and literature, everything soaking into his mind effortlessly. It was a new hunger, a lovely one.

But while this came effortlessly, there were other things that did not. Crowds overwhelmed him, as did certain textures or smells, all of his senses so  _ sharp _ . They’d taken him to healers, doctors to manage this stress, but there was not much to be done. It was his nature.

Their death worsened things. The moments were strange and cauterized. He was in a bed in a large room, bandages pulled itchily across his torso.

“...I’ve looked. There’s no other family.”

“I’ve given it some thought. His parents wished to be apprentices. I think they would consider it a great comfort if we were to educate the boy.” 

“Master, I implore you to reconsider. This is not a place for a child. How can we possibly provide the sort of nurturing environment a boy that young needs? He’ll need counseling, surely, as well as the opportunity to make friends--”

“Even, you sensed it too. That boy--Ienzo--he is special. He’ll have different needs, more expansive needs, than the average child. I feel he is capable of tremendous good.”

The words swam around him. The room around him started to decay, to rot, the flowers and patterns replaced with stiff wool and blankness. The air grew smoky. He could feel a weight in his chest, solid and aching, and he shivered. 

More voices.

“...What risk does such darkness pose to us? So long as we keep it contained. They’ve consented. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Ordinarily I would agree, Even. But the townspeople are starting to ask Aeleus and I questions. Apparently at night… they can hear screaming.”

“Hogwash.”

Against the thin walls of Ienzo’s memory, the shrieks battered. Voices of all genders, all ages. Asking for help. Asking for their mothers. Cursing them. Laughing mad. 

“Look at what it does to the cells! It’s a perfect transmutation. An alchemy.”

“It looks hungry. Like it’s eating.”

“I suppose it does, Ienzo. That’s very apt. See how the nature changes, when balance is upended?”

“...Master said breaking the balance is unnatural.”

“...I know you miss him, Ienzo, but it’s for the best he’s gone.”

The weight was tightening. Worsening.

“Dilan, I will not stand for this. He is too young to consent.”

“We’ve treated Ienzo with respect. I think he deserves a say. It’s only fair. He is different than the average child. I think it would make the data quite fascinating.”

“I will not allow it.”

“...You’ve grown too soft for the boy.”

Nightmares; then and now.

“Even--”

“It’s alright, Ienzo. It was only a dream.”

“I can  _ hear _ them. Screaming. It has to stop--”

“All right. All right.”

“We’re hurting them.”

“They’re doing this for science, Ienzo. For the greater good.”

“Make it stop!”

He could not breathe. Pain echoed and exploded in the small room. The cries, the slithering feeling of darkness. 

_ Let go of it. _

“Make it stop.”

_ Let go. _

“Stop…”

_ It’s yours, too. You’re connected. _

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There was weight in his arms. He looked down. He picked up the sleeping child slowly, so as not to wake him. Ienzo tucked him in, brushed the gray hair from his eyes. Kissed him on the forehead. “It’s alright,” he said. “You’ll wake soon.”

With a newfound lightness he opened the door, and left the room.

* * *

 

He thought he heard music. 

Soft at first, it broke through his dark and quiet dreams, laying against him like a blanket. Gradually it became more complex, more complicated, soaring through long runs of notes, becoming louder and then softer again. Repeating. Endlessly. The melody was eerie and the instrument familiar but unplaceable. 

Ienzo just wanted to sleep.

The music would resume, would change and shift and continue. It made him feel warm, comforted. Held. 

After an unknowable amount of time, he woke. Snow fell outside in a thick sheet. The room was suffused with light, and very cold. 

The sudden silence was all he could comprehend at first. Ienzo blinked. His body seemed so weighty.

“Ienzo?”

He struggled to sit up, his core complaining. Finally he managed it, propping himself on one shaky elbow.

There Demyx was. He was cradling Arpeggio, a blanket tucked around his shoulders. Something about him looked different; Ienzo could not tell if it was something peculiar about his own vision or not. No, there were very definite changes. His hair was more brown than blonde, and a touch longer, brushing his shoulder in the back. His eyes were more green than teal. That, and he simply  _ felt _ more present, more real. 

“Hey,” he said softly. He let Arpeggio fade. “Hey there. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Ienzo tried to speak. His throat was dry and scratchy from disuse.

“Ah--here,” Demyx said. He went and poured a glass of water, then handed it to Ienzo. “Take it easy. Baby steps.” He checked Ienzo’s pulse, his temperature. The second-nature way he did this made Ienzo suspect that had been a lot longer than a few days. 

Ienzo took a few sips. His voice was hoarse. “I  heard you,” he said. 

“You mean Arpeggio?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you didn’t always like to listen to me--”

“No, it was perfect.”

“I thought it might maybe help you find your way back.”

“I think it did.”

A beat of silence. Demyx couldn’t take his eyes off him. His hands were warm when he took Ienzo’s. 

“It’s been a long time,” Ienzo said.

“About a month and a half. Was pretty touch-and-go for a while,” Demyx admitted. “Your EKG activity has been wild. We knew you would wake up, but it was just a question of-- well,  _ when _ .”

“You’ve been taking care of me.”

“Helping,” he said. “It… makes me feel less, well, helpless.” 

“You’re whole.”

“I’ve been whole.”

“It still feels as though I’m meeting you for the first time.”

He cracked a smile. “It’s been happening slowly,” he said. “My old self and my new self, it’s all sort of…” He knotted his fingers to demonstrate. “I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

“I love you as well.”

Demyx kissed him gently. At least that much felt the same. When he pulled away, his eyes were watery. “I’ve been, um, a bit of a crybaby,” he said. 

“But this time it’s a happy cry.”

He nodded, patting his eyes. “I’m just hoping we can finally be together now,” he said. “‘Cause… no offense… I’m kind of  _ sick _ of this crap.”

Ienzo laughed. “I hope so, Demyx. Er.”

“Demyx is still fine. I don’t really care. But if you really want to know.” He whispered the name.

Ienzo repeated it. “That’s not what I thought it would be.”

“Yeah. It was a revelation to me too at the time.”

“Surely you haven’t spent the whole six weeks here?”

He shook his head. “I still needed to, like, sleep and stuff. But actually I’ve been spending time with the others. Even and I are friends now, which is  _ really _ weird.”

“I’m glad you two have found this a bonding experience.” He was only partially teasing. Adversity really did draw people together.

He looked sheepish. “He’s been asking me one thousand questions about the past. And trying to study my Keyblade. He keeps trying to touch it, but I can’t risk anyone inheriting that shit. No more kids are going to go through what I went through. This thing dies with me.”

Something vital had shifted between them. Demyx was no longer the person Ienzo had fallen in love with, but he was the person Ienzo was going to fall for again. He just knew. “I’m glad you have Arpeggio back.”

“Me too,” he said. “But it took a lot of work. A  _ lot _ or work. A lot of learning bad stuff about myself.” He tapped his thumbs together. “I think I want to study healing.”

Ienzo blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean. I know it’s dumb, and I’m probably too stupid, but--”

“No. Neither it nor you are stupid. I think you’d be wonderful.”

He blushed. “I don’t want to feel helpless again. And if I can keep others from feeling that way…” 

“If this is what your heart says to do, do it.”

“I’ve been talking to Aerith. She’s really nice. I was going to start training with her once you got better.” He sighed. “But in a weird way I’ve been lonely. I’ve… really missed you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. You saved me.”

“Do you really believe you wouldn’t have woken up?”

His expression darkened. He pulled his knees to his chest. “It was dark in that water,” he said slowly. “Dark and cold. And there was so much pain I didn’t think I could stand all of it. There was this little bit of me that just said to let go. And if I did I wouldn’t have woken up.”

“You would’ve lost the will to live.”

He nodded. “And I was going to do it. I was so, so close. I didn’t know how to get free. But then I felt you drag me out of the water, and I heard your voice, and I remembered that there are good things, too. I have to make this third or fourth or whatever chance worth it. Because I’m not gonna get another one.” He paused. His face turned pink. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about stuff.”

Ienzo drew him close. It felt so good to hold him, to breathe in his scent (at least that was still the same). “If you want to heal bodies,” he said slowly, “I want to heal minds.”

Demyx pulled away. “Saving me nearly killed you.”

Ienzo shook his head. “Maybe not literally. Maybe not with magic. Maybe with… with words. It can be a work in progress.” 

“That sounds… good. Who knows. We all need a bit of help.”

* * *

 

Recovery took time. Physically Ienzo was weaker than before. The simplest activities wore him out, and he was constantly exhausted. More than ever he was prone to headaches. Aerith visited to take a look at him and to speak with Demyx. Getting his power back had eroded and damaged some of his nerves, which explained the pain. She healed the damage and gave him some pills to take.

Demyx asked her a lot of questions. His inquisitiveness was new to Ienzo, and very attractive.

“I think it’ll be fun to have a student,” Aerith said. “The town keeps growing. It’ll be good to have another pair of hands.” She left behind a couple of books for him to study.

They took walks as he got stronger. Talked, sometimes. Mostly they didn’t say much of anything, and rested in silence or to the light sound of the sitar. 

It became clear that they were both hurting.

Ienzo thought at first that Demyx’s newfound reservedness had something to do with the return of his memories. But as the days wore on, he started to see layers to it--the lack of life in his eyes, the way he no longer leaned into Ienzo’s touch. He didn’t eat much, took frequent naps. He didn’t play music much. Didn’t touch his new books.

“Demyx?”

He looked at Ienzo as if he were not quite there. The bitter cold of the room didn’t help much. 

“Are you alright?”

A slight pause, as though the words didn’t register. “I’m fine. A little tired.”

“You seem very tired lately.”

He shrugged. “It’s the cold. Wears me out.” 

Ienzo sat across from him at the table. “Are you sure it’s nothing more? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.” Ienzo took his hand. 

“I’m still learning who that is,” he said softly.

“Well, then how do you feel?”

“Honestly?”

Ienzo nodded.

It seemed to take time to find the strength to speak. “Mostly--tired,” he said. “Tired, and numb. I thought I was supposed to be happy. We can finally put our lives together. And it seems like every day I feel a little weaker.”

“Because of your memories? And what you learned about yourself finding Arpeggio?”

“I… guess.” Demyx’s hand trembled and he withdrew it. “It’s just like. Why did I survive out of those thousands of wielders? And why is it that I of all people remember what happened? It feels so senseless. Couldn’t I have fought harder? Saved someone?”

“You were a child,” Ienzo said. “You were trying to stay alive.”

“And why did Xehanort choose me? I wasn’t ever the strongest and I never could collect as much lux as the others. Again and again I was his puppet. And he threw me away.”

Ienzo felt an ache in his throat and fought to keep his expression neutral. “Do you see yourself as not having worth?”

He scoffed. “As a pawn? Absolutely. But as a real person?” He shrugged. 

Ienzo digested all this. “I think you’re depressed,” he said slowly.

He pursed his lips, as though he tasted something bitter. “I guess so. I am just so tired of constantly fighting.” His knuckles, curled around his elbows, were white. 

“I know you are. But you’re done fighting now.”

“Not really.” He smiled dryly. “Still have to get my shit together. That’s an uphill battle.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Ienzo said. “I have studied psychology, after all.”

He snorted. “Not that I doubt your competence, but wouldn’t it be a huge conflict of interest if my boyfriend were my therapist?”

He had a point. There was no way he could be impartial. Yet their connection in the illusion had to mean something. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m not certain who else here you would feel comfortable talking to, though.”

“...I guess you’re right.”

“You can’t let these feelings fester. They’ll worsen.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” 

“You’re hurting too.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Ienzo.” His gaze was sharp as a knife. “Let me help you too.”

“You have none of the training.”

“I can listen,” he said. 

Ienzo felt the lump in his throat tighten. 

“I know you have a lot to say. Tell me the story.”

“Will you tell me yours?”

He nodded.

“It’s a deal.”

Demyx picked up Ienzo’s hand and kissed it. There was life still under there, buried deep. They just had to find it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo and Demyx begin the tedious process of unpacking their traumas.

XVII.

It seemed like winter would never end.

Demyx and Ienzo sat in the library on cushions in front of the fire. This was the only way to stay warm. Ienzo could not quite recall ever being so cold. Even in two layers, with a blanket, by the fire, he only held the chill at bay. Stone was truly a terrible insulator. 

Ienzo could see the tension in Demyx’s shoulder even with the shell of the blanket. “I’ve never done this before,” he said. “Therapy.”

“I’ve never counselled.” Not for good, anyway. “It’s not as if you can make mistakes in this process. Take things at your own pace. We’ve got time.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Maybe start with how you’re feeling.”

The firelight cast thick shadows on his face. “I feel… mostly numb. And anxious. And jittery, like someone’s going to come around a corner and get me. Sleeping is hard. Eating is hard.”

“You’ve barely touched your sitar.”

“Exactly. It’s like my whole head is quiet. Even before I had all my memories, yeah I was messed up, but I still wanted to be alive.”

Ienzo was glad that his hair covered half his face. “Do you want to die?”

“Not… die,” Demyx said. He twisted a corner of the blanket in his hands. “Just… not exist, you know.”

He took a deep breath. The scent of woodsmoke steadied him. “Unfortunately, you’re feeling this way _because_ you’re whole,” he said. “Often the human mind can’t fully comprehend a traumatic situation until after it’s over. Once you’re out, the symptoms become more prominent. It doesn’t help that you had to repress years and years of your time as a Keyblade wielder. It’s a lot of work for the mind to do all at once. It’s actually a miracle you’re as stable as you are.”

“That’s because of you,” Demyx said quietly. “Not because of the power of love or all that. It’s when you were in my head. I know the memories are still there. I remember them. But at the same time, something about it stopped it from hurting so much.”

“I can’t say for certain what I did,” he said. “As I remember it, I was brought to a beach and I found you in the water. I took you out of it. And that’s all. Though--” He wondered if the water had symbolized trauma rather than memory, and if by removing him he dulled the emotional impact of these memories--like a good medication. “I’m afraid I don’t understand this new power of mine, at all. I’m not even sure I can replicate it.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Demyx said. He picked lint off of the blanket.

“The good thing is that by processing these things, the symptoms will lessen,” Ienzo said. “But you’ll have to feel these emotions instead of bottling them up.”

“Oh, goody,” he mumbled. 

Ienzo tried to smile. “I’ve been where you are. I _am_ where you are. It’s not easy. But you have to. And you have to want to.”

“I do,” he said. He exhaled. “I want to be happy, and I want to be good, and frankly it really royally fucking sucks that now we have to deal with this shit instead of just, like, hanging out and going on dates and _living_. Like what kind of negative fucking karma did I gather in my previous life? Was everything I did as Demyx that bad? Do I somehow deserve this?”

“You’re not alone, feeling that way.” He sat up a little straighter. “You and I have had abnormal childhoods, and abnormal adolescences, constantly under the control of one adult or another who was playing god with us. Now that we’re real people, and adults, coming to terms with that utter lack of agency is almost impossible.”

“Agency?” Demyx asked. “God damn it. You’re right.”

“From now on I choose my own path,” he said, nearly to himself. 

“But how?”

The million munny question. Ienzo shrugged. “Demyx, I really don’t know. We both want to help people, right?”

He nodded. 

“And yet, we cannot adequately help others without taking care of ourselves. As I’ve learned.”

Demyx leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. 

“It’ll be best to take things easy for a little while,” he said. “Do what you can, when you can. This cold doesn’t help either. But getting stagnant will only keep you in that mindset.”

For several minutes he was silent. Then Demyx said, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do _you_ feel?”

Ienzo looked down. Honestly? Since he’d woken up from the coma he hadn’t given it much thought. He took a few minutes to try and unpack it. Mostly, Ienzo felt cold. Physically and mentally. Not… numb. His panic attacks had severely decreased in both quantity and strength (not that they ever fully _stopped_ ). It was a bizarre sense of being both settled and uneasy. “I feel…” Those infallible two words. “Since I regained the lexicon, I feel stable. But at the same time it seems like a false stability. And I’m not sure if that certainty of falsehood comes from a place of truth or a place of paranoia. Hardly anything in my life has _ever_ been stable.”

“So it feels wrong for things to even out?”

“I… yes. It does. And it shouldn’t. I know that much.”

“I know what you mean.”

The fire was getting low, casting odd shadows in the room. “Do you want to keep talking, or take a break?” Ienzo asked. 

“We can keep talking. It’s even colder downstairs.” He took a few logs off of the hearth and put them in the flame. “How did you ever grow up in this place, anyway?”

“Well, to be fair I only lived here three years. From after my parents died, up until I became a Nobody.”

“...Is it starting to feel like home again?”

He considered this. “Yes and no,” he said. “There are terrible memories tied up in this place, and deep, unshakeable betrayals. And yet. As I’m learning to forgive everyone, and myself, those bonds are healing. And you’ve given me some good memories here, too. But this is as much home as I’ve ever had. At this point I have to create these concepts for myself. I never had them before.”

“What? Of home?”

“Of family,” he said softly. 

Demyx curled a strand of hair around his finger. “I never really had that,” he said.

“No? Not even when you were a child?”

He snorted. “How do you think this child army thing worked?”

“I do not understand.”

Demyx started fidgeting again. “Well I mean. There were all sortsa different levels to it. Like, there were the wielders who were nobility, and kept passing it down to each other. And then there were just regular families who kept their Keyblades in their family line. And then there were just random ass people who happened to be “worthy” of it.” He said this bitterly. “Lucky me, I was part of the last group.”

“So wielders were the majority group?” Ienzo could not conceive of such a thing.

“I mean, kinda yeah. Even if you didn’t use it, or train with it, you still _had_ one. There were whole sects who spent their lives doing whatever they thought it took to get a Keyblade, just to look better. Remember that there weren’t Heartless or anything then. It’s _purely_ a status symbol. But around the time I was a baby Heartless _did_ start popping up, taken from the future via the Book of Prophecies or what the fuck ever. And the Foretellers realized they had all this free labor to do the fighting. To gather the light.”

Ienzo leaned forward. He wished desperately for a pen, something he could use to write all this down. 

“But of course all the rich snobs aren’t going to do jack shit. And the people that were willing got their asses kicked, or straight up died, and a lot of them had families of their own. But kids, you know, have strong light. What better way to get people to hand them over then feed them a bunch of propaganda about honor? And if they were poor, a promise of three hots and a cot?”

“And that’s what happened to you.”

Demyx nodded. “Yeah. I don’t even really remember my parents, at all. I used to have a picture of them, but… well. It’s lost now. I _sort of_ remember that day. I was real little. Like little enough to not be able to make long term memory. They had this test to see who was worthy. Made it seem like a real ceremony. They took the kids aside, and then each of the five Foretellers would ask the kid a question. I swear I can’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it was all a vague test of character. And then they take you over to a table with some toys on it.” He pantomimed the table. “And they tell you to pick the toy that you like most.”

“That’s the real test, isn’t it,” Ienzo said. 

Demyx nodded. “Yeah. I don’t even really remember my parents, at all. I used to have a picture of them, but… well. It’s lost now."

Ienzo took a moment to digest all this information. “So you were really on your own.”

“Yeah. The older kids would kind of look after the little ones until they were big enough to go out on their own. If you were lucky, you became part of a fighting party and made friends. I was part of a couple, but there’s all the typical drama and infighting and cliquishness. There was a lot of fighting. A _lot_ of fighting.” 

“Your parents couldn’t visit you?”

“I’m not really sure,” Demyx said. “I visited them, in my spare time. It was my mom who taught me music. But they... you know, it was hard for the two of them to get by, and they moved around a lot. Eventually... I couldn't find them again."

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sure they had their reasons.”

“I also know what it means to be abandoned.” His voice had dropped to a near whisper, barely audible over the crackling fire. 

“It really righteously sucks.” He tried to inject some humor into the words, but it fell flat. “Oh boy. Haven’t had to unpack _that_ in a while. Yikes.” 

““Yikes” is right.”

He laughed, a stifled, awkward sound, and touched his brow. “I always get thrown to the wolves,” he said. 

“Let yourself feel it.”

These were slow, quiet tears. Ienzo crossed the distance between them and pulled him close. “I feel sick,” Demyx said through his teeth. “These _fucking_ \-- These people are supposed to care about us. Why don’t they?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…” Ienzo could feel that pain too, sharply and acutely, as though he were being stabbed. _Your master abandoned you._  

_They told me you’d gone mad!_

His breaths were short and shallow. He tried to fight off this distress automatically. But to  not take his own advice would be hypocritical.

They held each other. Cried a bit. It was an odd attempt at catharsis, but he had to admit it was somewhat effective. After all this they lay by the dying fire. 

“Why do people cry?” Demyx asked. 

“Well, interesting thing about that. When certain emotions rise to high in the body, tears are produced to return the body to homeostasis. Which explains the numbness while crying, and the sense of relief afterwards. Why is it you ask?”

“Just… wondered,” he said slowly. 

“Do you feel a little better?”

He laughed weakly. “I kind of don’t want to talk about feelings right now. If it’s all the same.”

“Yes… I am tired.” Ienzo looked up at him. Demyx stared up at the ceiling, his eyes glassy and unfocused. When he realized he was being watched, he flashed a smile. “We should go. It’ll be getting cold soon.”

“I… I want to stay a little longer,” Demyx said. “It’s nice here by the fire.”

Ienzo sat up a little. “If you would like to be alone with me, you need only ask.”

He touched Ienzo’s face. “Isn’t it kind of messed up though? That after this whole deep and complex conversation I want to--”

“I’m sure there’s some kind of deeper reasoning behind it, but frankly right now I do not care,” he said, and kissed him.

It was the sort of kiss that was slow-building. Ienzo felt himself being pulled close, his callused hands slipping under both layers of sweater. In the midst of all this he was no longer cold. With all the layers Ienzo could not find his skin, and laughed despite himself. Demyx kissed him along his jaw.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

“There is altogether too much fabric. It feels like fondling potatoes.”

“Oh my god.” He started giggling too. Ienzo realized he’d heard Demx cry far more than he’d heard him laugh. “Maybe we should continue this in your room?”

“I should… I should like that.”

They returned, dodging potential obstacles along the way. Ignored Aeleus and Dilan in the sitting room. Ienzo should not have found such sneaking around amusing, but he did. This was very nearly normal. 

Demyx stripped quickly and crawled under the covers.

“Not exactly erotic, is it,” Ienzo mumbled. 

“You want erotic, come back to me when it’s not negative eight thousand degrees in here.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt it’s that cold.” But when he undressed the air was punishing on his bare skin and he could not help but curl tightly under the covers until he stopped shivering. “There’s months more of this yet.”

“God--makes me want to scream.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to contain yourself and be _very_ quiet. Where were we?” He kissed him. No. Here it was not so cold at all. The light in the room had a soft, silvery look to it. He wasn’t sure why, but he was nervous, like this was the first time all over again. So much had changed in the past two months, even if he’d been unaware most of the time. 

Demyx brushed the hair out of Ienzo’s eyes. “You still cold?”

He shook his head. 

“What do you want to do?”

He felt the color rise to his face. This was normal, he reminded himself. “Make love to me.” Saying it, he felt embarrassed.

Demyx nodded. “Okay--yes.” He shifted his weight, teasing apart Ienzo’s thighs and resting on top of him. The skin there was soft, more sensitive than he thought, and he stifled a breath. “You can tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, you know,” he said softly. “I can’t read your mind.”

“It would be so much easier if you could.” 

He chuckled. “Having someone else in your head isn’t all that much fun.” He traced circles on Ienzo’s inner thigh. “It’s right there, isn’t it?”

Ienzo kissed him. He could feel the flush of want in practically his whole body, curious and interesting. It was so bizarre to focus on the body. Most of the time he was so detached from anything. Demyx’s hand left his thigh, crept up past the curve of his hip to his side. 

“And here?” He kissed it. It was a lush, electric sensation and Ienzo covered his mouth to keep from making too much noise. He could barely reciprocate. His other hand was caught in the hair at the nape of Demyx’s neck. Already there was a tightness forming in the pit of his stomach. He uncovered his mouth and touched Demyx’s cheek. “I love watching you,” Demyx said. He was slightly breathless. 

Ienzo let his hand slip down against Demyx’s chest to his own sides. He gasped. “I thought so,” Ienzo said. He moved still farther down, between his legs. Demyx stifled a sound against his shoulder and then kissed him. 

“I think maybe now is a good time to--” Demyx sounded weak.

“It’s in the same place. The lube.” His joints seemed to have turned to jelly, though it was rather pleasant. At least now he knew what to expect. The finger inside him was no longer uncomfortable. He had just enough reason to wonder why that was.

“You okay?” Demyx asked. He was flushed. 

“It’s a lot less tight.”

“That happens,” he said. The second finger also went in fairly easily. 

Ienzo laughed a little.

“You’re cracking up today,” Demyx said. 

“Kind of an inside joke, with myself,” he said. “You’ve helped me change so much. Of course it would be there too.”

Demyx snickered. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a weird guy?”

“Sometimes a little weird is okay.” 

“I think it’s kinda hot,” he said. He withdrew his fingers. This time Ienzo could enjoy being taken. Now that he knew what to expect it was no longer so overwhelming. Demyx moved against him, gently but not nearly as tentatively as before. “Slower? Faster?”

“Slow is good.”

“...I was hoping you’d say that.”

With every thrust Ienzo could feel him coming up against him in the exact perfect way. His dick rubbed gently against Demyx’s waist, providing much needed friction. The tension was almost unbearable, but every time he thought he was getting close things would get still tighter, still more intense. There was a lot about his own body he still didn’t know. Finally it all snapped. His vision went gray for a moment, like he might faint. He felt his hands trembling at Demyx’s back. “You okay?” Ienzo asked. 

“Dizzy.” He got off of Ienzo and lay on his side. “I think we came at the same time.”

“Is that unusual?” He reached for a handkerchief to wipe off his belly. He wrinkled his nose. It was a shame the whole process was so messy. 

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Despite the stickiness, it felt good to rest against him. “So people really just do this whenever they want?”

He snorted. “You don’t need, like, a special occasion to have sex.”

“Some things still seem rather bizarre to me.” 

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Now that the heat of the moment was fading, Ienzo pulled the covers up more tightly around them. “How old were you? The first time?” 

Demyx blew a raspberry. “Seventeen. There was a guy in the Dandelions. We went on a few missions together. We’re all thinking, like, the end of the world is coming, and post-fight adrenaline plus teenage hormones is hard to resist. Yeah. But we weren’t like… in love, or anything. He was the only one I slept with. Before you, I mean. Why is it you ask?”

Ienzo shrugged. “Merely curious. So there was no one in the Organization?”

He raised an eyebrow. “ _In_ the Organization?”

“While we were in the Organization.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I know some of the others tried that to feel something. I didn’t really care though.” 

Ienzo nodded and lay back down. After all that he was exhausted. “I should like to take a nap,” he said. 

“I’m getting good at wearing you out,” he teased.

“Amongst other things.” He yawned. 


	18. Chapter 18

XVIII.

Progress took time.

They continued their sessions. Sometimes Demyx talked; sometimes Ienzo did. Sometimes there were tears or anger or both. But gradually, gradually they both began to heal. They found things to do outside in town. Soon the cold became less dreadful. 

Ienzo often chided himself for wasting time. The urgency to  _ do good _ nagged him endlessly. It didn’t matter that he was unlearning years of trauma, or spending time with his partner. There were mistakes to fix, problems to solve. He wondered if he might ever find peace. 

He sought Ansem.

Ansem sat at the desk in the anteroom of the lab, bent over a set of blueprints. “Hello, Ienzo. How are you doing?”

“I am well.” His mind was drawn, inevitably, to his encounter with the lexicon and the realizations therein. “What is it you’re working on?”

“Aeleus and Dilan are helping me with plans for a new heating system,” Ansem said. “There is absolutely no reason for us to suffer for another long winter.”

“I should be glad to be warm again,” Ienzo said. 

“Is there something else on your mind?” Ansem asked.

“Well… yes. Do you recall our conversation from a few months ago, when I asked to see the data you had collected from the basement?”

“How can I forget? It was the last I saw of you before you fell into that horrid sleep.” He frowned. “I suppose you’re ready to see it.”

Ienzo sighed. “I… believe so,” he said. “Demyx and I have been helping one another in cognitive-behavioral therapy. I was not at a place where I was able to take responsibility for my actions. I am now.”

“I have told you time and again that this is not your fault--”

“Thoughts that are difficult for a traumatized young man to internalize,” Ienzo interrupted, politely yet firmly. “I do believe this will help me find peace.”

Ansem sighed, and nodded. “If this is what you believe you need, then I am happy to provide. It’s all in its own folder on the desktop. Would you like me to sit with you while you read it? It’s heady stuff indeed.”

He shook his head. “I need to be able to process this on my own.” He went over to the computer. It felt strange to return, now that he’d had time away from it. He pulled up a chair, logged in, and drew a deep breath. 

The files he’d read all those weeks ago were only the tip of the iceberg. The record-keeping had been extensive, and a lot of it had been hidden, thought lost, corrupted, or classified by certain apprentices (usually Even). But now it was all here.

He did not need to reread what they’d done. He knew it. What he was looking for was something else entirely.

The names of the subjects had for the longest time been redacted, replaced with letters at first, and then numbers. But now it had all been revealed. Either the encryption had timed out, or someone had released these files.

Ienzo shut his eyes and held out his hands. 

The lexicon came to him slowly and hesitantly. It had retained the changes he’d seen in his illusion. It looked like one of the fairy tale volumes from Ansem’s study. His psyche surely had a sense of irony. He clutched the book in his hand and started to read the data.

There were their names--dozens and dozens of them. The photos. The biographies and backstories. Not the numbers. The people. He whispered the names under his breath, trying to commit them to memory. He hadn’t seen them as people. Not then.

He read and read until his eyes were hot and painful. Favorite colors. Hobbies. Anecdotes. Life histories. Friends, family. Husbands, wives, spouses, children. In one particularly memorable case, a border collie a young woman insisted carried the soul of her stillborn twin. 

He opened the lexicon and asked it to show him one of the subjects. It obeyed. A plan began to form in his mind. 

* * *

 

When Ienzo found Demyx, he was in the library.  _ Studying. _ The sight was so surreal he was tempted to take a picture of it on the gummiphone. His sitar was in his lap, and he played a soft melody quietly to himself. But his eyes remained on the book in front of him. For a few minutes Ienzo watched, feeling something like pride. 

“How is it going?” Ienzo asked.

Demyx jumped, a discordant  _twang_ echoing in the room.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Demyx let Arpeggio disappear. “It helps me remember, if I play,” he said. “Otherwise I can’t focus. If I read a chapter enough while playing a certain song, it sticks. I tried it the other way.  I don’t know how you guys learn stuff.”

“Everyone studies differently,” Ienzo said. “So you’re really going to do it?”

“That’s the plan,” he said. “She told me to read these before I came to her for the practical stuff.” Demyx shifted the books around. Anatomy, magical theory, botany. Organic chemistry. 

Ienzo kissed him lightly. 

“So what’s going on with you? I figured you were working on something, but I don’t know what.”

“Well, actually, that’s kind of why I came to find you.”

“The score? Ienzo, you realize I can just  _ read _ it to you, right?”

He shook his head. “Not that. Though I would like to know what’s in it, if you’re not afraid to share. No.” He took the lexicon out from under his arm. “I’m afraid there’s something only you can help me with.”

He smirked. “What was it you said? “If you want to be alone with me you need only ask?””

“What? Do I really speak like that? Never mind-- no, this is something else.” He sighed. He was just going to have to spit it out. “I want to go to the basement.”

Demyx paused. “Okay. Two things. First, not a great idea, all things considering. Second, why me? Why not Ansem or Even or someone else who was involved in the experiments?”

“You’ve got a weapon.”

Demyx paled. “So--let me get this straight. You want to go to the basement--where it’s crawling with Heartless and god-knows-what-else, not to mention where you’ve seen enough horror to go gray prematurely--”

“I haven’t gone gray. This is my natural hair color.”

“Babe, the last time you remembered something half as horrible you went kinda ballistic. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“I’ve healed since then,” he said. “I have this--” He held out the lexicon. “And I have my power, whatever it means. I think the only way I can find peace is by helping them.”

Demyx exhaled, exasperated. “And do you really trust  _ me _ to defend you? I’m out of shape, and I have no idea how strong the Heartless down there even are.”

It was becoming clear. “What is this really about?” Ienzo asked. “Are you really afraid of a few Heartless?”

He looked down, and was silent for a few minutes. “I guess not,” he said. “I just… I’m afraid that going down there and seeing all that will change how I see you. And I don’t want that to happen.”

Ienzo took his hands. He had a point. “I know that. And it might change your mind. But I… I need to do this. I hope you understand.”

He didn’t say anything for such a long time that Ienzo nearly left. Finally, he said. “You’d do the same for me. Alright. Let’s free some ghosts, or whatever.”

Ienzo kissed him. “I love you.”

“I can’t say  no to you. But you knew that.” He marked the place in his book and set it aside. “I’d feel better if we got some supplies. And if you rested. You look exhausted.”

“So tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

 

That night, he read the files in the lexicon, trying to memorize as much as he could. Demyx set off to get supplies from Even, and when he came back, his expression was taut. Ienzo attributed it to nerves. He, himself, did not feel so nervous, which was odd. “Did you get everything you needed?” he asked.

“Oh, plenty,” he said breezily. “How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly, not as anxious as I thought.” He shut the book and settled down in bed. 

“Can I… stay with you tonight?”

Ienzo frowned. “Of course.” He lifted the covers and let Demyx crawl in. He felt himself being drawn close, held tightly. It made sense that Demyx was worried about him. “I’m not sure why you felt like you had to ask. You scarcely sleep in your own bed anymore.” It was nearly too conspicuous; there were a few times where Demyx was seen coming and going from Ienzo's room. 

“Dunno. I figured you might want some time alone.” His voice was a bit dull.

“I have spent a lot of time thinking about this alone. I don’t mind the company.” 

Demyx looked up at him, with a degree of hesitation. He kissed him once, but if he had any more reservations he didn't voice them.

Ienzo slept, though timorously. He ate a good breakfast. Demyx packed the bag of supplies. The morning was warmer than it had been in ages, and he wasn’t sure this was a good omen or not. He put on his lab coat over his sweater. Tied the purple ascot around his throat. It had been so long since he’d worn such clothing that it felt a little constricting.

“You sure you want to do this?” Demyx asked. 

“Yes. I’m sure.”

His eyes were sharp and serious. “Lead the way, then.”

They went down and down and down, several floors below the lab to the last locked door. The plain steel door stared back at them. Ienzo reached for the keypad, but found that he could not punch in the numbers.

“Did you forget the code?” Demyx asked, not without a hint of hope.

Ienzo summoned the lexicon and tucked it under his arm. And then he typed in the number.

It was all exactly how he remembered it.

The lights flickered on in a bright, fluorescent cascade, all the way down the hall of cells. The first few rooms were offices. All of the spaces were ravaged, ransacked; Ienzo could not tell if this was from the subjects, or from Ansem in his determination to destroy the data. Papers littered the floor. The dank, barren, black and silver doors of cells stared them down. All were open. Each, Ienzo knew, was identical--cot, sink, toilet, chair. The room was bright, but he felt as though he were squinting to see. The thin scent of smoky darkness began to permeate everything. 

“They smell us,” Demyx said. Ienzo had been in fights with Demyx before, in the Organization, the rare few times they’d been paired for a mission. The higher-ups had seem fit that there was no reason for there to be two intelligence officers on the same mission, and kept them apart once they realized it was inefficient. (The fact that Zexion had complained about him seemed irrelevant.) He’d seem Demyx fight--his bearing, his cowardice. Now he was completely different; guard up, at attention. He’d brought his arm in front of Ienzo, who pushed it away. 

“Not yet.” 

They crept forward cautiously. Ienzo waited for the battering ram of trauma. The memories trickled slowly. Walking these halls with Xehanort, offering the prisoners (that was the right word) ice cream. Maybe it was the lexicon’s influence, or the fact that he was here to put this all to bed, but Ienzo did not feel the same helplessness as before.

“There’s no one here,” Demyx said. 

“Don’t speak so soon.”

An amorphous blob of darkness materialized at the end of the hallway. They watched it form and twitch. Ienzo couldn’t be sure, he he could swear that its silhouette was more humanoid than the usual Shadows. A Neoshadow, maybe? 

More darkness gathered, slithering along the floor in splintery streaks. The first jittery Shadows came out of the cells. 

“Freaky,” Demyx hissed. There was a flash of light in his palm. Ienzo saw the Keyblade for the first time. To his surprise, he could see Arpeggio in its folds and curves, in its coloring. 

One of the Shadows shuffled towards them.

“Stay behind me,” Demyx hissed.

“Not yet.” He crouched down. The darkness on the floor did not start ensnaring him, as he thought it might. “Do you remember me?” Ienzo asked the Shadow. Zexion had always thought that Heartless were incapable of any feeling or understanding. But they  _ were _ what was left of hearts, the very embodiment of negativity within. It had not, after all, tried to attack them automatically.

It cocked its head. 

“I was little then,” Ienzo said. “Not anymore.”

The Shadow twitched and shuddered. A few more peeked out. “What are you doing?” Demyx asked.

“Giving it the Sora treatment.” He exhaled. “Put that away. We’re not here to hurt you all. Isn’t that right?”

The blade in his hand trembled a little. 

“Demyx?” Ienzo prompted.

He let it disappear. Raised his hands in acquiescence.

He looked deep into the Shadow’s gold eyes. “You’ve been here for such a long time, so alone.” The lexicon opened to a random page, of a little girl. “Isn’t that right, Jamie? That’s you, right?” He held the book out to the Heartless. It seemed to stare at the page within, of the photo. “I wanted to apologize for all we put you through.” Keep talking. Keep talking. “There was a bad, bad man. He made all the people around him sick with evil. And they took it out on you. On me, too. And my friend next to me. That doesn’t make it right, but the bad man’s gone and everyone wants to help you.”

The Heartless seemed to convulse.

“I can’t imagine it’s fun down here. There’s nobody and nothing to play with. But there’s another place with lots of friends waiting for you.”

The Shadow raised a claw.

“Ienzo,” Demyx hissed. Ienzo held out his hand. 

The Shadow placed its claw on the photo of the girl. It was not twitching anymore, not in the way Heartless usually did.

“Do it now,” he whispered. “She’s ready.”

Two quick cuts. They watched the heart rise and disappear. 

“Oh my god,” Demyx said. “Are you… are you okay? I should’ve given you my coat.”

He looked at himself. There were no rogue threads of darkness, no sign of infection. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

“How many are there?”

“Left? I’m not sure. But these aren’t ordinary Heartless. This was the genesis.”

The Heartless, having seen all this, did not flee the way they were akin to when their brethren died. They came forward in a lump. They did not attack. They left plenty of space between them and Ienzo.

“They’re making a line,” Demyx said. 

“They want to be free.” He smiled. His eyes were watering. “Who wants to know who they are?” 

It must’ve taken hours. 

He showed each Shadow that came forward their profile. He explained what happened and he apologized. Each time, the Heartless seemed to spasm, and then stopped twitching; Demyx would free the heart. Ienzo was not sure if he were channeling his own powers somehow, but he felt himself getting more and more tired. The process was rough on both of them; he could hear Demyx breathing heavily, though he didn’t complain more than to say he was out of shape. 

One by one, the Heartless were set free. The smell of darkness grew weaker and weaker until it was nearly gone. Ienzo felt sweat at his brow, and a fresh headache budding behind his eyes. Was it merely tension?

“Is that it?” Demyx asked hoarsely. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Yes, that was--” He crunched the numbers. “Ninety-nine.” He furrowed his brows. “There’s one left. Maybe it’s hiding? Can you handle one more?”

“I think. You?”

He nodded. When he stood, his knees shook, and Demyx helped him up. “Why did they forgive me?” Ienzo asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The bitterness… they just let it go. Without fail. There was not even  _ one _ rogue Shadow that tried to attack.”

“They’ve been here ten years,” Demyx said. “That’s a long time to suffer. Sometimes you have to let it go to make the pain stop.”

He looked at his trembling palm. “I see. I… understand.”

Demyx glanced over his shoulder. “I think we’ve found our stowaway.”

It was the humanoid Heartless, the first one they’d seen. They approached it slowly. 

“We’re here to help,” Demyx said. “Do you want to go be with your friends?”

The Heartless seemed to consider this. Ienzo held the lexicon in front of him. The last file--where was it? Was it missing?

“Ienzo,” Demyx said nervously. “Maybe start working your magic, yeah? My buddy here seems a little agitated.” 

The Heartless’s claws twitched. 

“I can’t--” He started manually shuffling the pages. “I can’t find their--”

The Neoshadow hissed. Demyx drew his Keyblade. “Come on. Let’s talk this out,” he said. “I’m offering you a get-out-of-jail free card here, friend.” 

At the sight of the weapon, the Heartless  s creamed _,_ despite the fact that Heartless had no facilities to do that . They leapt at Demyx.

Ienzo’s mind was spinning, his headache pulsing in time with his heart. Hasn’t Ansem retrieved all the files? Hadn’t he read them all? Something wasn’t making sense.

Demyx was holding his own against the Heartless, guarding himself against the attacks. He didn’t play the offensive. They kept screaming. 

Something clicked.

Ansem hadn’t been ravaging through those files. The Heartless had.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness disappears.

XIX.

“Hold them off!” Ienzo cried.

“Are you serious?” Demyx yelled.

Ienzo ran back towards the office. He rooted through the papers. Lab reports, calculations, pages and pages of notes. “Please, please, please,” he whispered. He could still hear the fighting in the hallway. Demyx cried out, and there was a loud thump. “Are you alright?” He yelled.

“Oh, I’m fucking peachy!”

A red file. Buried under other files. It was a physical file, not data. But there was no name, just a letter--

It was what he had.

Demyx was limping badly. His hair was in his face. There was a bloody scratch down his right arm. The Heartless battered against his defense. 

“Hey!” Ienzo cried. 

It turned, tendrils of darkness snaking off it. 

“Ienzo, no!”

The Heartless charged towards him. He held the file out at eye level. “This is you!” He cried. “This is what we did to you. We destroyed you. We made it so that you can’t remember. We even took away your name! And then we destroyed it. And this is all that’s left. You deserve more than to be a letter. You… you’re…” He glanced at it briefly. It wasn't--it couldn't be. Lea and Isa--was this who they'd been after the whole time? “Even when you were here you had friends who loved you deeply. Friends who risked their hearts to save you. Isn’t that right? Subject X?”

They stopped dead in their tracks. Demyx limped towards them, preparing to strike.

“No,” Ienzo said. “Put it away.”

“Ienzo--”

“She’s listening.”

“She?”

The Heartless looked at Demyx for a long moment. 

“Friends?” Demyx said slowly. He blinked. “Lea and Isa? You mean she’s that girl they were talking about?”

The Heartless screamed again, but it was less aggressive, more urgent. 

“Yes! Lea and Isa,” Ienzo said slowly. “They tried so hard to save you.”

“They still miss you,” Demyx added. “They were just telling me all about you. They would have come themselves but they… they had to go away.”

Ienzo let the file come down. It dropped out of his palm. He was feeling dizzy now, reeling from the revelations. His head was pounding.

“Wait…” Demyx said. He struggled to pick up the first page, the one with the picture clipped to it. “No…” He blinked rapidly, as though it might disappear.

“Whatever’s the matter? Is it your injuries?”

He shook his head. “I know her.”

Ienzo squinted. “You… know…”

“I  _ know _ her,” he reasserted. “She’s… she’s from my time.” He turned towards Subject X and jabbed towards the picture. “This is you, right?”

The Heartless whistled. 

“You… you probably don’t recognize me,” Demyx said. “I was younger then, and my hair was different. But I’m all grown up now. You didn’t get to do that, did you?” He summoned the Keyblade and held it flat in his hands. “You complimented my Keyblade, because it was unique. My name changed, but then it was…” He whispered it.

Ienzo was frozen with shock. There really were no such thing as coincidences with Xehanort involved. 

The Heartless eyed him more closely.

“I know,” Demyx said. “Really different. And Ienzo is too. We’re all grown up now. I wish… I wish our party hadn’t fallen apart. You were pretty much the only cool one there. But you always kept to yourself. And then I saw you in the Dandelions too. It was the Foretellers who pulled us out of time and wiped our memory. You just had the shittiest luck to end up here.”

She held out one trembling claw. Demyx took it. Ienzo tensed.

“It’s okay,” he said. “She’s not hurting me.” Ienzo could tell from how tight his muscles were that this was a lie. “We’re going to help you, okay? We can make it stop hurting. Do you want that?”

The Heartless tightened her claw. Ienzo saw blood drip to the floor as she cut into Demyx’s hand. He didn’t so much as flinch. 

“You’ll be free,” he said. “We’ll all be free, Skuld. Close your eyes.”

The Heartless listened. Demyx took the Keyblade and drew it through her heart.

And then it was quiet. And there were no more Heartless. 

“Let me see your hand,” Ienzo said.

Demyx was shaking badly. 

“It’s not infected,” he said. “You were so very tender with her.” He wrapped it with gauze from the kit. “That should hold until we can get you to Even or Aerith. Where else are you hurt? Here.” He gave Demyx one of the potions. It was easier to fuss over him that to deal with the gravity of the situation, with the reality of his own pounding head and aching chest. “You were limping.”

“I’m pretty sure I just tore a hammy. I don’t think anything’s broken.”

Ienzo checked anyway and found no breaks or fractures.

“Ienzo?” Demyx asked. “You’re bleeding.”

Ienzo could feel the blood against his lips. 

“It’s okay,” Demyx said in the same odd, cautious voice. The same lying tone. “Even told me what to do in this situation.”

“You asked him?” Why did he sound weak? 

“You’re going to be fine.” He took something out of the bag. A filled syringe. “Give me your phone. I’m going to call them.”

“What’s that?” Ienzo asked.

He hesitated, his calm facade slipping. “Something to slow the damage to your heart.”

“Damage?”

“Absorbing all that pain drained the strength from your will. Now your organs are shutting down.”

Yes. Of course. He'd suspected it'd been to easy. These things always have a cost. “So I’m to sleep again?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it. The power.” He shuddered a little, and Demyx caught him when he fell back into his arms. 

“I know.” Demyx touched his face. “I love you,” he said. 

He felt a prick of pain in his arm. He tried to keep his eyes open, to stay awake, knowing what faced him within, but it was a losing battle.

He slept.

* * *

 

Sleep. Aqueous. Endless. Music and words.

“You think he’ll wake up?”

“I’m sure of it. His heart is healed. Vitals all normal. I can’t thank you enough for all your help. Everyone tends to learn fast under pressure.”

“I was a healer in my party. Just the basics, but it’s coming back. The readings help.”

“I’m so glad. Listen, Demyx. Don’t worry. i can feel that he’ll be fine. You did the right thing. It’s the trauma easing in the heart--not the organ--that is part of this. It’s got to scar over. so to speak.”

“Shouldn’t I have told him?”

“He knew it was a risk.”

He slept.

* * *

 

The first thing he became aware of was sweat. He was warm--so warm. Ienzo blinked. 

Heat and light. 

“Ienzo?”

Ansem. 

The room around him solidified. The sunlight had lost the silvery quality of winter. His head ached. He turned slightly and tried to sit up with complaining muscles.

“Easy. Easy, my boy.” Ansem’s hair had grown longer. “Oh, it is so good to see you awake.” He started tugging free the needles, tubes, and heart rate monitor. This situated, he patted Ienzo on the head.

Ienzo cleared his throat. “Where’s--?”

“Demyx is asleep. He was in not an hour ago checking your vitals. It wore him out. Shall I wake him?”

He shook his head.

“How do you feel?”

“Mostly--headachey--how long has it been?” He rubbed at his eyes. 

“The same amount of time. Six weeks.”

“A number that seems to plague me,” Ienzo whispered. He sat up fully.

“You should take it easy.”

“I feel fine.” The lexicon was on his bedside table. “It’s still here?”

“None of us pretend to understand it. You’ve likely lost your power for good, but you haven’t lost this.” He sighed. “Demyx told us all what happened. You’re a braver, kinder man than I. I always thought of their pain as relative to myself. Even now I was too selfish to see them as anything more than the most base creature.”

“It is… a logical assumption. Unfortunately these things defy logic.” He felt… odd… much too light. Relief, he realized. Paralyzing relief. He’d done as much as he could. He would always feel some semblance of guilt, but the weight in his heart had eased. “Ansem?” 

“Yes?”

“There is one more thing I would like to do for them.”

“Anything.”

Ienzo told him of his idea. For a moment, worry creased Ansem’s brow, but then he smiled tiredly. “Yes. That is truly the only suitable end to this story. Perhaps this way, we can heal the damage we’ve done to the psyche of this town. I shall help you. I think we all will.”

“Good.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt heavy, unwieldy, but not nearly as sore or as weak as he’d thought.

“You should rest,” Ansem said.

Ienzo shook his head. “I’ve rested for six weeks. Be assured I will not push myself. But I… I have to see Demyx.”

Ansem smiled again, more naturally. “Of course.” He helped Ienzo to his feet. “I am proud of you.”

Ienzo hesitated.

“You should never have been made to suffer that way. And yet, somehow you’ve started to overcome it. You’re so young. I hope you can find peace.” Ansem let go of Ienzo’s hands and embraced him. 

He smelled exactly the same as he always had--oranges and powder. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with this touch, but he did not mind it as much as he thought. Perhaps they might mend their bond yet.

Ansem let go of him. “I’m not quite sure what it means, but we found this with you, right after you went to sleep.” He picked up the blue book from the bedside table. “I did not open it.”

Ienzo took it from him. “It’s the lexicon,” he said. “I’m not sure why it endured.”

“Lexicon?”

“My Nobody’s weapon.”

Ansem flinched a little. “I see. Quite fitting.”

“I will tell you about those years sometime.”

“I hope you will. But now you should go to him.”

Something akin to nervousness flooded him. The hallways seemed so very warm after the winter. Ienzo lingered for a moment at the doorway of Demyx’s room, feeling his pulse pound in time with his headache. He finally turned the knob and realized he still had the book cradled in one arm. 

Demyx was asleep, right on top of the blankets. He looked pale, wan, a bit peaked. Ienzo wasn’t sure what to say, or how to say it. His heart felt both impossibly full and impossibly light. He reached out and touched his cheek, and then gave him a slight shake.

Demyx woke almost unwillingly, but when he caught sight of Ienzo, he seemed hazy, unsure. 

“I sleep for weeks, and yet somehow you’re the one that must be woken,” he said drolly. 

His eyes flashed. “Ienzo?”

“Good morning.”

Demyx pulled him close, hugging him almost too tightly. Ienzo felt dampness against his neck as he cried. He held him, breathed in his smell, let him catch his breath. When Demyx broke the embrace, he looked at Ienzo as if he thought he might disappear. 

“I should have told you,” Demyx said. The words spilled from him. “Even said--he said there was only a possibility of it happening but still--”

“I’d made up my mind,” Ienzo said. “Truthfully… even if I’d known the risk, I would’ve gone through with it. They deserved to be freed of their torment. Just… when it concerns me, don’t feel as though you can’t speak up.” He looked at his palm. “It’s all gone. I can feel it.”

“Your power?”

“I don’t need it anymore.” He touched the lexicon, the last relic of all that time. Stroked the front cover. Opened it. Already he knew it would all be gone. Most of the pages were blank, save the first. There were two lines in his own handwriting, the ink smudged slightly--exactly like a child would write.

_ You’ll be safe now. _

_ Thank you. _

The tears were hot on his face. “You’re crying,” Demyx said.

“It’s a good cry.”


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx, Ienzo, and the others try to find peace and rebuild their lives.

Epilogue

Ienzo cleaned his glasses and stretched. His wrist was aching from all the writing. Truthfully, it would probably be faster and more efficient to type rather than write by hand. But in this case the computer felt colder and more inorganic than usual.

It was a beautiful day. A cool breeze blew in from the window behind his desk. It would be good to go outside, to get some air. 

His gummiphone chimed with a text.  _ I hate skateboards. Just set 3 different kids’ broken bones. I’ll be back in 10 if you want to grab lunch. _

_ I was about to ask you the same, _ Ienzo wrote back. Demyx had taken much more quickly to the gummiphone than he had. It seemed as though, whenever they were apart, he felt the need to send Ienzo every little passing thought through his mind. 

Times had changed.

He looked to the table where he had been working. Prints, files, and plans were spread around haphazardly. He really should tidy up, lest some rogue breeze sweep it all away. 

“Baby, are you a library book? Because I’d like to check you out.” Demyx smiled slyly.

Ienzo fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You’ve used that line before.”

Demyx gave him a kiss. “You been here all morning?”

“More or less.” He started rolling up the delicate print paper. “I wanted to take another look at it before I show it to the committee. Incorporating Dilan’s suggestions was necessary, but now I suspect I’m developing carpal tunnel.” He shook out his hand. “But I suppose you can fix that for me. It is  _ quite _ convenient to have my own on-call physician.” Demyx only ever got better at healing. 

“Even would murder you if he heard you call me that.” He took Ienzo’s hand into his own and ran his fingers across the bone. A warmth replaced the pain. “I’m not a doctor. I’m a healer. In training.”

Ienzo flexed his fingers. “I think he’s a touch jealous.”

“I don’t see why he should be. He doesn’t have to chase kids around just to get them to wear helmets.” 

Ienzo put the plans in their cardboard tube and sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be fully happy with it. It’s been an exercise in creativity, if anything.”

“Well. For what it’s worth,  _ I _ think it’s great.”

He stacked the books neatly. Botany, architecture, spiritualism. Ienzo took off his glasses and set them aside. “In a way, this feels as though it’s my firstborn,” he said softly. “It’s a complete end to this part of my life. Now I’m to head into the unknown.”

“Isn’t it exciting?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I’d say nerve-wracking. Shall we get lunch? I could use some fresh air.”

“There was this new noodle place I wanted to try out. I can’t remember the last time I had some half-decent udon. Think you can spare an hour or two on me?”

“Maybe. If you behave.”

Demyx rolled his eyes.

They set off. The castle was a work in progress. They’d all spent some time here and there trying to tidy things up, but Aeleus especially had invested in repairs. This week in particular he was painting, covering the soft green in a pale blue that brought more light into the narrow halls.

“Good job, man,” Demyx said to him. “We’re going to town for lunch. You want anything?”

He nodded and kept painting. 

“I guess we’ll surprise you,” Demyx said.

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Radiant Garden’s famous flowers were just coming into bloom. The first breath of fresh air made him sneeze. “Yes, my favorite time of year,” he said dryly. 

“If you took your allergy medicine like I told you, you wouldn’t be such a wreck.”

He exhaled. He’d never  _ quite _ get used to Demyx lecturing him.

The town was full, alive, constantly growing. It was looking more and more like the place it had once been, but there was still a sort of rawness to it. They ordered their lunch and sat outside. 

“It probably won’t ever be like it was, but it certainly does give me a kind of hope,” Ienzo said. It was easier now than ever to hope, and dream, despite his anxiety for what the future held. Stress of change was different than existential dread. 

“It’s grown on me,” Demyx said. “I like it here.” His healing work, especially, was helping him get to know the townspeople. 

“It does feel rather more like home than it used to. Though I suppose it’s more the people than anything.”

Demyx smiled a little. 

“If you were able to travel freely again, would you?” he asked. 

Demyx considered this. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ve seen a lot in my time. Kind of enough. But I haven’t seen the worlds when they’re at peace. What about you?”

“Part of me says yes, absolutely. But the other part…” He shrugged. “You’ve got to either hide or assimilate to maintain world order, which does take a certain amount of work.” 

“What’s the point of world order? What happens if it isn’t upkept? All these years, and nobody could give me a good answer.”

Ienzo furrowed his brows. Truthfully, he had no answers either, other than the half-baked “tremendous possibility for conflict”. But with so many displaced due to darkness, the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. The noodle between his chopsticks broke in half and disappeared into the broth. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “Perhaps it warrants some investigation.” 

“Maybe you can work on that next.”

“Maybe,” he said cheerfully. “Though--this world is barely stabilizing.”

“Last time I talked to Cid, he said that they’re going to have to start planning some kind of government,” Demyx said. “Even though there hasn’t been any real crime or anything, someone’s still gotta step up.” He scraped at the bottom of his bowl and frowned when he found nothing else. He had to eat almost constantly to maintain weight, especially using so much magic. 

“I’d heard. They’d called Ansem down a couple of days ago. They offered him the job. He was once sage king, after all.” Ansem had seemed almost guilty when he'd told Ienzo. 

Demyx whistled. “How did that go?”

“He turned them down. Said he didn’t want power, and didn’t deserve it. He did say he would serve as adviser to whoever ends up in the position, should they want his advice. Cid and  Leon are going to organize a town hall. And then eventually there will be elections.” Privately, Ienzo agreed. Even though Ansem had once been a kind ruler, the guilt of what had happened remained. He didn’t trust himself. Ienzo suspected that, between the war and his time in the realm of darkness, he was psychologically too shattered to handle the responsibility.

“I wonder who it’ll be.” Demyx grimaced. “Wait. Does that mean they’ll have to live with us?”

Ienzo chuckled, and tried to brush off his worry. “Wouldn’t that shake things up. For some reason I don’t think that would go over too well. If you haven’t noticed, we’re all just a touch insular.”

“Have I noticed. They’re barely accepting  _ me. _ ”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself. I think Ansem rather likes having you around. It makes him feel young.”

Demyx hesitated. “How are things between you two?” he asked cautiously.

“Improving,” he said. “All the while improving. There’s more bitterness in me than I thought. But I assure you I am working through it. We both are, and we’re both willing, which is what matters.” It was true. While building such a bridge was difficult, to Ienzo it was necessary work. They shared memories, vulnerabilities. He was still unpacking the anger he felt towards Ansem, which some days rose more harshly than others.

“You don’t have to forgive him to love him.”

“I know. But I feel as though I need to, to move on.” He set his chopsticks aside. “Are you still hungry?”

Demyx sighed. “Always,” he muttered. “Aerith said eventually my body will adjust to using so much magic so frequently. I beg to differ, though.” 

“Are you still enjoying it?” Demyx’s training separated them for long hours, which wasn’t always easy. But it wasn’t as though they could live their lives joined at the hip--nor was it healthy.

“I feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to. And I don’t have to give up music, either.”

“You can be passionate about more than one thing, you know,” Ienzo said lightly. “Shall we head back?”

“Yeah. Think I need a nap. Fucking skateboarders.”

“In another life you’d be one of them,” Ienzo said.

“I hate that you’re right.”

* * *

 

Ienzo shouldn’t have been nervous, but he was. “How does it look?” He appraised the meringue. "Almost. Not quite."

Demyx was whisking furiously. 

Ienzo took the bowl from him and put the topping on the lemon pie. He felt twitchy, paranoid. Dinner was ready. They just had to wait.

"You still anxious?"

He sighed. Ienzo took the bowl from him and started to put the topping on the lemon pie. “I realize it’s illogical, but that doesn’t make it  _go away._ ”

“They’re going to love it. I know they will.” 

"Part of me feels like I'm rubbing salt in just-healed wounds." It may have been dealt with, but the specter of the experiments hovered over them.

Demyx hugged him from behind, and Ienzo couldn't help but give into the comfort. “They think about what happened all the time,” he said in a low voice. “This is closure. And you know closure can hurt a little sometimes.”

“I suppose.” He had a point. “Would you mind letting go of me? I’ve got to put the pie back in.”

 

The dynamic at the table was vastly different than it had been the first time they’d all gathered here. No more uniforms, no more hierarchy. The conversation more casual, less stilted and formal. More natural. For a moment Ienzo drank his wine and soaked it all in. 

“Aeleus, you know I detest that powder blue. These are scholar’s residencies, not an infant’s nursery--” Dilan rambled on.

“Well then perhaps you can fix it yourself,” Aeleus said calmly.

“I do despise those skateboard miscreants,” Even was saying to Demyx.

“I know, right?”

“You should’ve let them heal naturally. Teach them a lesson about being careless.”

“I mean, uh, that’s kind of against my code of ethics but--”

Across the table, Ansem caught his eyes and nodded once. It was an understanding of some kind, though what he wasn’t quite sure. Ienzo bobbed his head in response. 

They cleaned up. Had dessert. Before they could all drift off to bed or elsewhere, Ienzo cleared his throat. Demyx took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure you all know by now what I’ve been working on,” he said. “I’d like to present it to you now, before I turn it over to the committee for approval.” He got up and retrieved the roll of plans and his written works. He smoothed out the blueprints in front of them. “It’s a garden. For those who fell.”

He’d been meticulous in his research. They could’ve easily created an empty space to keep the sets of mortuary tablets. But this felt hollow, dull, lifeless. He’d chosen several sets of blooms, one for each type of loss incurred during Radiant Garden’s struggle with darkness--those killed by the initial fall, those who became Heartless, and lastly, those who had fallen because of their research. He’d chosen the breeds for their symbolism, and for how well they would keep and take root. Each flower would represent one soul lost; at the back of this garden he imagined a wall with all their names, as well as books with more information about each person lost.

It was this aspect that had taken most of his time. There was plenty of information about their hundred subjects, but when it came to the rest, it was all a bit piecemeal. The committee had had a good deal of records concerning who had been deemed a casualty, but still there were bits missing. For weeks he’d gone on foot, interviewing those who were willing to speak. Some of the responses were vociferous; others were struggling too much with grief, or preferred to keep it quiet. About ten percent of the names were still completely lost. And might not ever be found again.

Their reactions were mostly what he’d expected.

Aeleus and Dilan were stoic, though Aeleus patted Dilan’s shoulder. Even, though clearly moved, fought to keep his face impassive. Demyx cried. Ansem stood and reached across the table to take Ienzo’s hand.

“That will do,” he said. 

* * *

 

The days and weeks passed--the committee accepted his project with open arms. When they were able to allocate the resources, work on the garden started. Nearly all of them, committee and castle alike, spent a good deal of time working on it, planting seeds and tending to the new flowers, engraving the stones and plaques which would hold the names. Building benches. Giving people space to mourn, or celebrate, their lost loved ones. Ienzo spent most of the summer in a constant state of soreness and dirtiness, covered in uneven splotches of pink sunburn. 

And then it was done. There was going to be some kind of ceremony later on for the whole town, but for now he was glad to be mostly alone. He stood at the small altar, where some of them had already lit incense and candles. 

“Hey,” Demyx said. He held something in his hands, wrapped in white cloth. “You okay?”

“Yes.” The sun was setting, casting a warm light over everything. “What is it you’ve got there?” 

Demyx gestured. “Come on. I want to show you something.” He led him through to a corner of the garden. A small red maple sapling had been recently planted, freshly enough that Ienzo could still smell the dirt. It was one of the breeds they’d chosen to recognize whole families that had been lost. A pair of mortuary tablets lay at its trunk. He took the object covered in white cloth and set it just behind them. “Didn’t want it to get dirty when I was working.” He pulled the cloth away.

Ienzo’s breath hitched. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Maybe not. But I talked to Ansem about it, and he agreed that they belonged here.” Demyx had somehow kept the photo from inside of his parents house. It had been repaired, and framed sturdily. “I figure if you want to think about them, you can come do it here,” he said. 

He blinked quickly against the tears. Ienzo hugged him. He didn’t have to thank him. Demyx knew how much he meant it. 

Once he had his composure back, he patted his eyes dry. Kissed Demyx softly.

“Everyone’s going out to get a drink, if you want to go,” Demyx said. “I figure we all kind of need one after today.”

Ienzo nodded. “I should like that very much.”

And they left the garden together.


End file.
